Interim
by Hanna Sedai
Summary: A collection of oneshots that take place between my fics Northern Star and Eastern Sky.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: ****I ****don't ****own ****anyone.**

**A/N:****Yeah, ****I'm alive.****Here's ****a ****oneshot that takes place between Northern Star and Eastern Sky. Don't expect this to become a fully-formed story. This is just a collection of oneshots. I'll be posting these whenever I feel like it.**

* * *

** -DG-**

Dick spent most of his time hovering between Gotham and Bludhaven. He felt obligated to check into Bludhaven a few times a week, since people expected Nightwing to be there. Dick sat at his desk in his bedroom, fiddling with a robotics project he had started a few days ago.

Someone knocked on the door.

"Come in."

He turned around in his seat and saw Bruce standing in the doorway.

"Hey, Dick. I'm back. You got your college applications done?"

"Yup, finished them this morning."

Hardest thing he had to do was fill out his FASFA, and even that didn't take long. Filling out forms and writing application essays was easy compared to the stuff he was used to. Bruce smiled.

"That's great. Are you still going to Bludhaven tonight?"

"Yeah, I haven't gone in a few days." Dick turned back to his work. "I need to talk to a Daily Planet reporter, one who's not Clark."

Bruce said nothing. He didn't like talking to reporters under the mask, and he especially didn't like it for Nightwing. After several months of being pestered by Daily Planet reporters, Dick relented and arranged meeting with one as Nightwing. People had to know, right?

"What are you working on?" Bruce asked, leaning over Dick's shoulder.

Dick gave the exposed wire one last tweak. The tiny robot sparked to life. It turned its head shakily, studying its creator with metallic eyes. Dick hadn't expected Bruce to come in here. If Dick had known, then he would have put the thing away. Everything about its design stank of Sladebot.

"Did he teach you this?"

Dick looked up briefly. "I was bored."

Anything Dick did that echoed Slade's influence irritated Bruce. For good reason, Dick supposed. Though, seeing the world now without a corrupted lens wasn't the easiest thing. Everything seemed tainted. Little things others did—things Dick would have never noticed before—triggered him.

"Does it help? To do this, I mean." Bruce gestured towards the robot. "Or does it bring back bad memories?"

Dick's shoulders slumped. After the incident in Bludhaven, Dick had tried to forget, tried to suppress all of the bad memories, but it didn't work. When he wasn't out on patrol (sparsely, these days), he found himself floundering with his free time. Time to think allowed his bad memories to pile up, to bubble angrily until he could no longer contain them. Destroying punching bags only helped him so much. And while he had swept up the remnants of his anger from the Bat Cave floor, Dick realized that he needed to stop his destruction.

So he had gathered some scrap metal and started to build. True, the only design he knew was the Sladebot one, but why should he allow that to stop him? Building, creating—it challenged him, occupied him. It was a way for Dick to confront his fears in ways he could not possibly describe at the moment.

"I'm better today."

Dick shut down the robot and put it away quickly. It seemed as though Bruce found out something new about the apprenticeship everyday just from observing Dick. Sometimes he said something, sometimes he didn't. It all depended on Dick's mood.

"Good. I'm glad to hear it."

An uncomfortable knot formed in Dick's stomach. Talking about the apprenticeship was still hard, even after three months at home. Alfred had told him over and over that there was nothing weak about feeling uncomfortable, of feeling like he was displaced, in a world where he didn't belong anymore.

"I know what the reporter's going to ask," Dick said. "She's going to ask me if I was really Deathstroke's apprentice."

"What are you going to tell her?"

"The truth."

"Are you sure that's a good idea?"

"Everyone suspects it. At this point it doesn't matter. I might as well embrace it."

Dick sidled past Bruce and left the room. Relations with Bruce were better, but Dick always limited the conversation, especially when Bruce wanted to talk about the apprenticeship. It was time to leave for Bludhaven, anyway. He would finish the robot later.

* * *

**A/N: I got this idea during class, but couldn't write it down until now! Review! **

**P.S: very important links on my profile! Lots of exciting shenanigans are happening right now! **


	2. Coffee

**Disclaimer:**** I don't own anyone. **

**A/N:**** Wow. I really like to write about superheroes in coffee shops.**

* * *

** -DG-**

** Bludhaven**

People gave him the strangest looks whenever he passed by. Even these few times Nightwing had patrolled in Gotham, people avoided him.

_That's __what __you __get __for __publicly __announcing __that __you __were __an __assassin's __apprentice. __Good __job, __Grayson._

In comparison to the warm reception he had received as Robin, Dick found the public stiff and uninviting. People were, of course, intrigued by his disappearance and bombarded him with questions. But the majority of citizens—the ones he spent time saving—reacted with some distrust. It was subtle, to be sure, but enough to make Dick question himself.

Everything had changed once he said it: he had been Deathstroke's apprentice, he had turned to the Dark Side. To most it didn't matter that, like Darth Vader, he had turned upon the Master and defeated him. In the end it didn't matter what the public thought, but it hurt all the same.

Nightwing walked straight into the coffee shop. A wave of heads turned towards him, conversation halting in his wake. His face burned, but he kept a straight face. Coming out in the open like this was dangerous. After yesterday's interview, he knew that he had to do something to make the public trust him.

It was as if the world was punishing him for something he had no control over. It was hard enough being at home; he didn't need strangers judging him. For Dick, it wasn't a matter of an adoring fanbase: it was the looks people gave him. Now that people knew the truth, he couldn't hide any longer. Bad memories faced him with every single question, every single judging glare, every single time a mother drew her child away from him. It was as if Slade had tainted him past recovery.

He ordered his drink quickly, all the while feeling their eyes on his unprotected back. In another world, another time, people would have said hello and waved. People did that in Jump. But this wasn't Jump City, this was Bludhaven, a hard city unused to pleasantries.

Nightwing turned towards the crowd, who started silently back. No one openly criticized him. Was it because people were scared? Nightwing wanted to smile, but he couldn't.

He barely heard the barista call out his name. Nightwing grabbed the cup and headed out the door, his heart pounding exceptionally loud in his ears. Some nodded as he walked by. Some looked away. Nightwing wanted to say something, but he couldn't. Instead he looked at them all, shrugged, and took a sip of his coffee.


	3. Milk and Cookies

**Disclaimer: I don't own anyone.**

* * *

**Milk and Cookies**

** -DG- **

** Gotham City **

** Wayne Manor **

Since he wasn't in school and not with the Titans at the moment, Dick just stayed at Wayne Manor and killed time. At least, that's what he felt like he was doing. Sleeping in was hard. The house felt too big, too empty, full of too many memories.

In the mornings he worked out in the Bat Cave. Sometimes Bruce joined him. Sometimes he didn't. In the afternoons and evenings Dick watched a lot of TV. All the while he felt like he was wasting his time. Was that really what he decided to do with his free time? Watch TV? When he could do so much more?

This particular afternoon he watched some silly action show he used to watch with BB. After so much time away, he had missed the last season and didn't know what was going on. He lounged on the couch, the remote control resting lazily in his hand. Again, the thought that he was wasting time passed through his mind, but nothing sounded interesting. Calling the Titans didn't even sound fun. Dick stared at the ceiling for a moment before turning his eyes back to the screen.

"Still at the telly, I see."

Alfred walked in, carrying a tray of chocolate-chip cookies and a glass of milk. Dick nodded, briefly glancing at Alfred before going back to his show. "Yup."

"You've gone through how many seasons in the past three days?"

"Exactly three."

"I see."

Alfred took the remote control and turned off the TV. Dick sat quite still as Alfred put a plate of homemade chocolate-chip cookies and a glass of milk in front of him.

"Master Dick, you need to talk."

Dick sat up straighter. "About what?"

"You know about what."

"Alfred—"

Alfred held up a hand. "I understand not wanting speak about the apprenticeship. I haven't interrogated you because I understand your need for silence. But time has distanced you enough, I hope."

Dick studied Alfred, suddenly feeling cornered, a lump forming in his throat. He didn't move when Alfred put two comforting hands on his shoulders. Despite himself, Dick tensed.

"Why won't you talk?" Alfred asked.

"I don't even know where to begin."

"Try focusing on one thing you can talk about. A single event or conversation..?"

Dick shrugged Alfred's hands away. "Don't make me do this..."

"I can't help you, and you can't help yourself. I won't tell Master Bruce. Don't you trust me?"

"Of course I do."

"It hurts me to know that you're hurting," Alfred said. "You've been avoiding us when you can. You don't talk to anyone about it, and when your friends try you shut them down. That's not healthy."

"I don't want to worry anyone."

"When you don't talk about it, we can only assume the worst. Please, at least talk to me. The more I know, the better I can help you. Things trigger you. I can see it, no matter how hard you try to hide it. That's natural, I've seen it before in shell-shocked soldiers. Your situation is no different. Sooner or later you're going to have to talk."

Dick considered Alfred's words. Talking to Alfred about this instead of Bruce was definitely easier, but he still didn't like it. Whenever anyone brought the subject up, Dick didn't want to talk about it. Even _thinking _about it was hard. He was afraid that if he started talking—like he did during those frantic first days back—he would break down again. Start sobbing uncontrollably like a child.

Alfred stared resolutely back at him. He wasn't going to leave until Dick started talking.

"Well... I guess... I mean, the worst Slade would do was hit me. It's not like anything was any different from training with Bruce."

"It's very different, and you know it."

Alfred's calm voice should have been reassuring, but Dick couldn't hear it.

"I don't understand why I feel this way!" Dick exclaimed. "I wasn't in a war or tortured. All he did was hit me when I didn't do what he told me to do, or when I said something I shouldn't have."

"Did he, now?" Alfred asked, his face darkening. "And you dismiss that?"

"Yeah, well, I've been hit plenty of times. Kinda hard not to in my line of business." Dick stuck his hands in his pockets. "It wasn't any different from those other times. You know, when the Joker or Ra's al Ghul kidnapped me as Robin."

"Dick—"

"It was just a mission that went wrong," Dick snapped. "And dealing with him was better than dealing with the Joker, who actually _did _torture me when he could."

"Dick, Slade hit you. He also shouted at you, didn't he?"

Dick felt paralyzed, caught in a conversation he had to finish, else all hell would break loose in the house. "So what if he yelled at me? So did Bruce. So did every other villain out there."

"Dick, Slade isn't any other villain. If you don't care that he hit you or yelled at you, then what bothers you?"

Snapping his mouth shut, Dick looked away, swallowing the sudden lump in his throat. He rocked back-and-forth in his seat slightly, wanting a way out of the conversation. Why did Alfred have to come in here and make him talk? Didn't he know that it made everything worse?

"You know why."

"I know. I just want to hear you say it."

He shut his eyes. "Slade... changed me. He tried to make me into a criminal, and he almost succeeded."

"And he used violence to coerce you when threatening the Titans didn't work."

"Yes." His voice sounded so very, very small.

"Can you talk about a specific time he did that?"

Remembering brought everything alive. Experiencing the pain in his nightmares was enough. He didn't want to talk, but he did. He couldn't say no to Alfred.

"I remember the first time I cried." Dick twiddled his thumbs nervously. "It's strange, Alfred. You think you're strong, you think you're brave, but every once in a while something just..._snaps. _Then you break."

"What happened?"

For a while Dick said nothing. He had felt disgusted with himself. Crying wasn't dignified. Crying wasn't something that Robin did, or was even capable of doing. He stared at the milk and cookies aggressively.

"It was after dinner. We fought—there were lots of fights. I don't even remember what it was about. All I remember was that I was so tired of everything and screamed obscenities at him. I couldn't deal with it. Most of the time Slade never put up with my crap, and that time he just put me back in my room after he struck me. I sat down in the corner and did exactly what he told me to do: think about what I've done.

"In that moment I realized that I was trapped. That there was no way I could possibly win, and that it was my fault it all happened. That I was exactly what he said I was: just a kid. And he treated me like one, and I felt like I deserved it because I made a childish mistake. So I sat there and _cried._"

Dick stopped, as though waiting for Alfred to interject. Waited for Alfred to tell him that crying wasn't the proper reaction.

"People have cried over less," Alfred said softly, "and for much sillier things."

Stupid tears blurred his vision. Dick wiped his sleeve across his face, trying to blink them away. He shouldn't be crying over this. It was all over. There wasn't anything he could do about it.

Somehow knowing that Dick wouldn't be able to talk anymore, Alfred pulled Dick into a hug. To Dick's surprise, Alfred's eyes were blurred with tears as well.

"I'm sorry," Alfred said quietly. "I'm so sorry, Dick."

What did you do when _Alfred Pennyworth _cried? When the man who helped raise you, took care of you when you were sick, who would give the best advice, started crying?

Tears finally rolled down his cheeks as he leaned against Alfred's chest. He was shaking, all the while wondering _why _he was acting like this. Like a coward, weak, not worthy of anyone's time. Maybe it was best he quit the superhero business altogether so that no one would suffer from his mistakes again.

"I love you, Dick. We all do." Alfred squeezed Dick's arm gently, reassuringly. "And don't think for one _single _moment that you're not allowed to grieve. Because I do every time I see you or Master Bruce or your friends suffer."

Alfred disengaged himself carefully from Dick and lowered him onto the couch. The old butler tucked a blanket around the boy he had always thought of as the grandson he never had. Dick barely noticed as he laid there, staring vaguely into space, awful memories fogging his mind.

"Dick," Alfred said, bending down to face him, "don't ever trivialize violence again. It's not normal for anyone, not even a cape." He pushed the plate of cookies towards him. "Now, you and I are going to eat these cookies, and you are going to like them. And we're going to have the best time doing it."

* * *

**A/N: This actually hit me harder than I thought it would. This was written mostly as a response to a reviewer who said that Dick cried too much during NS. I disagreed, as I think it is a realistic representation (to the best of my knowledge and abilities) of someone suffering through depression, which I believe anyone in that kind of situation would suffer from. **


	4. Safety Valve

**Disclaimer:****I ****don't ****own ****anyone.**

**A/N:****This ****oneshot ****came ****about ****from ****three ****different ****things.****1)****I ****stayed ****up ****too ****late ****watching ****Supernatural, ****and**** "****Playthings****" ****partly ****inspired ****this.****2)****A ****class ****discussion ****about ****rituals ****and ****society.****3)****A ****oneshot ****request ****from ****dlsky. ****So ****I ****wrapped ****up ****all ****the ****ideas ****into ****one, ****and ****I ****hope ****you ****enjoy ****it.**

* * *

"Safety Valve"

** -DG-**

** Gotham****City**

** Wayne****Manor**

Dick felt as though someone had hit him hard over the head with a sledgehammer. He sat in Bruce's study, waiting patiently for Bruce to return, his mind clouded and slightly confused. A very quiet voice told him that this was a bad idea, that he shouldn't have done this, but after everything that had happened in the past year he couldn't get himself into worse trouble.

"Dick?" Bruce paused in the doorway. "What are you doing here?"

Well, he was the world's greatest detective. It wouldn't take him long to realize that his study had the best cabinet of spirits in the house.

"How many people died, Bruce?" Dick asked, tilting his tumbler.

He already knew that he would have a terrible hangover; his head pounded angrily, chastising him for making such a poor decision.

"What?" Bruce glanced at the tumbler in Dick's hand. "Are you all right, Dick?"

"While I was...there...with him... people died. No one told me."

"What is this?" Bruce asked, picking up the bottle.

"Jameson Whiskey. Gets you smashed pretty fast."

Amazing, how much it didn't take for the alcohol to soak in, especially when you had a chaser. Mixing the stuff with Ginger Ale was pretty good. Tasting the Ginger Ale rather than the alcohol made Dick feel better about what he was doing.

Setting the empty bottle on his desk, Bruce looked sadly at Dick. At first Dick thought that Bruce would take the tumbler away—indeed, Dick thought that would be the first thing Bruce would do—but instead Bruce pulled up a chair next to him.

"This isn't like you, Dick," Bruce said. "Why did you think this was a good idea?"

"I was just..." Dick shut his eyes as his head pounded painfully again. "I thought it would help me talk to you."

"Did Slade... let you drink?" Bruce sounded hesitant.

Dick's head felt heavy as he faced Bruce. "What makes you say that?"

Bruce sighed. "It's OK, Dick. I'm not mad. I just want to know."

There was no turning back now. Dick had waited for Bruce to come back from patrol, had drunk enough to be able to talk more freely than he had in months.

"Sometimes," Dick replied. "It was weird. One time he came back from a contract. I knew it, he didn't try to hide it. Blood all over his uniform and everything. Pretty messy, unprofessional, must have been a tough one. I was sitting there on the couch, just staring at him, knowing that I couldn't say anything unless I wanted the Titans hurt.

'You don't think I know you're sitting there, judging me?' Slade said. 'Say it, Dick. Go ahead, I won't hit you.'

"He was trying to goad me, make me do something stupid. I refused to play his mind game, so he ignored me. Or at least he thought he did." Dick laid his head back against the office chair and tried to gather his thoughts. "I was done for the night. Wintergreen was kind of hovering around, and he asked if I wanted anything to drink. I don't even remember what it was, but it was something sweet like a sports drink, sweet enough to hide the taste of alcohol.

"Slade kept asking me questions, keep telling me to speak my mind, kept giving me alcohol until I was intoxicated enough to answer his questions."

"Why did he do that?"

"He suspected that I was planning an escape attempt, and I told him all about it. Funny, isn't it? I always thought I would get drunk with the Titans first." Dick placed a hand over his head. "Afterwards, when I wasn't hungover, I asked him why he did it. It was...unlike Slade, as far as I knew. Slade called it a 'safety valve.' It was a way for me to let out some steam, to say what I wanted to say without being a threat to him. Wasn't that nice of him?"

It had also been a way for Slade to assess Dick's suppressed thoughts, the thoughts Dick didn't say out of fear or because he was scheming. Dick had been sober enough to realize that at least one of his escape plans had been thwarted.

"Did he do this often?" Bruce asked.

"No. And when he did, it was unexpected."

Alcohol had never been used as a punishment or as an incentive. Just as another way for Slade to control him without permanently harming him. Given the other ways Slade could have made Dick talk, this was actually pretty mild.

"That isn't why I drank tonight. I'm sorry, Bruce, but it was the deaths."

Dick had spent the afternoon reading all about the deaths connected to the JLA. They were just normal people. Most of them didn't even know that their co-workers or bosses or friends were superheroes.

"It's not your fault—" Bruce began.

"I know it's not my fault," Dick cut-in. "There wasn't anything I could have done to stop it. At that point most things were out of my control. Things are still out of my control."

His emotions were out-of-control even when he was sober, so what difference would it make if he was under the influence? At least now he didn't care, and he wouldn't until he woke up tomorrow morning.

"That's not true, Dick," Bruce said softly. "You're in control of your life now."

"I'm not in control now, am I?" Dick looked at his hand in fascination. "It's just the alcohol talking."

Bruce wasn't happy, Dick could tell. Why would he be? "No, Dick. You have control, you just don't use it."

"I wish you had told me!" Dick slammed a hand on an armrest. "Why didn't you tell me about the deaths?"

"We didn't want to worry you. You had bigger, more immediate problems to deal with. If anything, the deaths were the JLA's fault. We should have seen them coming."

"He almost won, Bruce. If I didn't have help, then Slade would have won."

"Dick!" Bruce grabbed Dick's shoulders and shook him slightly. "What's done is done. You can't change the past. What matters most is that Slade didn't win. You got out."

Panic fluttered in Dick's stomach when Bruce shook him. He still didn't like it whenever anyone touched his shoulders, even if it was friendly. Bruce let him go and sighed.

"God..."

Dick stood up, swaying slightly. It was time to go. The Titans were swinging by early the next morning. He had to be there for them. "It was nice talking to you, Bruce. I'm sorry you had to hear my story like this."

"I'm thankful I got to hear it at all. You don't talk much these days." Bruce paused. "But don't do this again. Please."

Dick nodded and walked out of the office, back down the hallway and towards his room. Everything about recovery was hard. Why was it so hard? Numbness crept through him, a numbness that he welcomed with open arms. His emotions lay bare like exposed nerves, and he did not care.

_I'm never doing this again, _Dick thought. _I told him too much. He'll be sad now, as if he weren't sad enough already..._

* * *

**A/N:I thought it would be nice to root Dick's alcoholism from "Eastern Sky" somewhere on this AU timeline. **

**Explanation of the "safety valve": we discussed that in my class on Medieval rituals, and I though t it was a really fascinating concept. **


	5. Shopping

**Disclaimer: I don't own anyone. **

**A/N: I've just been chilling on spring break, so I thought I should finish writing this oneshot for you. Kind of a two-parter, but at the same thing not really.**

* * *

** -BW- **

** Gotham City **

** Wayne Manor **

Dick and the Titans played basketball outside, their shouts and taunts echoing up to the house. Bruce and Alfred stood in front of a large window, Alfred watching them as Bruce took another look through Dick's intake papers.

"What did Palmer say?" Alfred asked.

"Dick showed no signs of substance abuse when the Flashes picked him up," Bruce said. "Not that anyone was looking for it, but still..."

Bruce shut the folder, not wanting to look at the report. The JLA had assessed Dick after he had come up to the Watch Tower, just to be sure that he wasn't seriously hurt. Once Dick had arrived in Ivy Town Ray called to tell them that Dick didn't have any life-threatening injuries. Alcohol abuse was something that Bruce had thought about, but did not exactly anticipate. Not like this.

"He was ill this morning," Alfred said. "The Titans arrived late enough for him to pull himself together. They don't know anything."

"He's shown no signs of dependency before," Bruce said. "Why last night? I thought he was getting better."

Just watching Dick play basketball with the Titans seemed to support this. He looked happy, and he was more active than he had been in a long while.

"As you very well know, these things take time." Alfred took the papers away from Bruce. "I know it's been a few months, but the worst of it may yet come. He hasn't yet talked about the things that upset him the most."

"That's what I'm worried about," Bruce replied. "I can understand using alcohol to cope, but the way he used it last night... that worries me. It worries me a lot."

A shout rose from the basketball court as he leaped to the hoop and dunked the ball, dangling precariously on the rim as Starfire rose to get him down. He just needed to be with friends. That was helping the most.

**-DG- **

** Downtown Gotham **

"Thank you for taking me to the down of the town," Starfire said. "Gotham is such a big city."

After their intense basketball game this morning everyone had gone their separate ways. He wasn't sure if he could call this a date, though they were alone while the other Titans hung out at Gotham Manor. Maybe the other Titans wanted to set them up. Probably all Cyborg's doing.

"It's my pleasure, Star," he replied. "What makes you happy makes me happy."

This was something that Star and Raven did back in Jump City, and normally he didn't join, but there was something fun about doing something like this. It was just so _normal _and casual with Star.

"It is time for you to try on the clothes!" She held up a shirt. "Do you think the nautical stripes make you look the handsome?"

"I don't think stripes are my thing," he replied, laughing. "Except maybe fingerstripes."

He hadn't been clothes shopping in a long time. Alfred had bought him some new clothes since he had obviously grown out of his old ones, but Dick hadn't picked out his own stuff in a while. Sometimes he felt uncomfortable spending so much money. Shopping for clothes was just foreign to him, but he did it because it was something Star enjoyed.

His head still twinged with pain, but as the day went on his headache got better. Thank God Alfred and Bruce put up with him these days.

_I wouldn't put up with me, _Dick thought. _Breaking down every other night, drinking Bruce's entire stash of whiskey... _

Things were getting better, but just barely. Deep down he suspected that the Titans, especially Raven, knew that he wasn't okay, that things wouldn't be okay for a long time.

Dick straightened as he heard the soft, sudden _click _of a camera. It was slight, barely noticeable over the store's blaring radio station, but he had heard it.

"If you're from the _Gotham Gazette_, please leave," Dick said quietly. "I'm not answering anyone's questions."

Sure enough, two reporters slid out from behind racks of clothes, one of them fumbling with her camera.

"I don't appreciate paparazzi," Dick said coldly. "Leave me and my friend alone."

"Dick...?" Star appeared behind him and took off the hat she was trying on. "Is something the up?"

They were relatively young for reporters—perhaps in their late twenties—but they seemed confident. Obnoxiously so.

"You haven't been out and about lately," the woman said. "You wanna talk about it?"

"Respect my privacy, please," Dick said. "I didn't come back to be bothered by reporters."

He didn't want to get angry. God almighty, he didn't want to lose his temper at these people and accidentally hurt someone. They were only trying to do their job.

"You will leave him alone!" Star exclaimed. "He does not wish to speak with you! Leave now, or you will feel my righteous anger!"

Dick turned to look at Star, surprised by her vicious tone. Half of him was worried that she would blow her cover (no one in Gotham knew that the Titans were here to visit), but half of him was relieved that she was dealing with this.

Equally surprised at her fiery temper, the reporters turned and left, muttering darkly to each other. Before Dick could say anything, Starfire placed a fedora on his head. "I think this hat is suited to you."

He smiled.

* * *

**A/N: I wanted to write something a little more uplifting than the other angsty oneshots I've been posting, so I tried. **

**Also, for those who have asked about "Gunshot": I do not have the time to continue that oneshot. Though I've been posting oneshots that's all I really have time for nowadays. Kinda busy getting ready to graduate college in two months and...stuff. **

**BUT **

**if you so desire to see a continuation, you are all welcome to write your own spin-offs based on my fics! Just tell me! **

**Lastly, I had to create a twitter for my internship. I have a pretty lonely Twitter (same username) so come talk to me about TT! **


	6. Sniper

**Disclaimer:**** I don't own anyone. **

**A/N:**** Hi! I wanted to write another oneshot, and someone suggested that I write about Slade, so I did!**

* * *

** -SW-**

** Jump ****City,****California**

The number of contracts slumped dramatically in the months following Dick's departure. People simply didn't trust Slade anymore; people thought that he couldn't stay in control if he had allowed a boy to walk away. Slade's reputation might have been saved if Dick hadn't publicly announced that he used to be Deathstroke's apprentice.

_What __a __little __shit, _Slade thought as he set up the tripod.

He could see why Nightwing had done it: it both bolstered and hurt his reputation, and it cleared up answers for a curious public. But the backlash from Slade's client base was immediate.

"You ended up training another cape," a Blüdhaven client had said sarcastically. "Thanks for the extra work, Slade. We're done."

Ridicule flew from city-to-city, and Slade had broken a few arms while away on business. Everything people said was wrong: though he had allowed Dick to walk away, that didn't mean he wasn't pissed at the kid. Time was a precious commodity, and Slade couldn't help but feel that he had wasted so much time.

Judging from his occasional infiltration of JLA communications, Slade knew that Dick was suffering from severe depression, and was vaguely aware that it was his fault. Not that it mattered; Wayne had to deal with the brat now. No more dealing with Dick's unruliness, his sarcasm, his tendency to pick fights...

There were plenty of things Slade hadn't liked about Dick as his apprentice, but Slade had taken the time to try reforming him. Dick had admirable qualities that outshone his weaknesses, and letting him walk away was a wasted opportunity.

_Maybe __he'll __see __reason __once __he's __spent __enough __time __in __Gotham, _Slade thought. _He __still __has __time._

The kid was going away to college in the fall. Hudson University, wasn't it? Good for him. At least he wouldn't be wasting as much time swinging around Blüdhaven beating Slade's clients up. Though Slade hadn't gotten over his anger, part of him still felt proud. Aw hell. Slade adjusted the sniper and frowned.

One of the clients (a man called Seaver) who had ridiculed him and dropped Slade as a contact was, to Slade's pleasant surprise, his next target. Karma must be a thing.

People liked to mock him, but they'd still piss their pants if they had to fight Deathstroke. Though Dick had crumpled and allowed Slade to intimidate, that was more than he could say for his clients, who were complete pussies and would never last as long as Dick could. Slade aimed his sniper towards the window, aiming directly for Seaver's head. Better not waste time on this one. Slade had better things to do.

A gunshot cracked the air as Slade pulled the trigger. "Who's laughing now, Seaver?"


	7. 1: February

**Disclaimer: I don't own anyone. **

**A/N: This is a response to some reviewers who asked, "well, what DID happen between the apprentice episodes and the seven month time jump in Northern Star?" Lots of character development, but little plot. Think of this as a frame narrative of sorts.**

* * *

**Seven days. Seven months. Seven stories. **

**February: Day After **

**-DG- **

**Wayne Manor **

**Gotham City **

The other Titans were in the game room, though Dick had slipped out an hour ago to the kitchen. He planned to go back to the Titans soon, and was opening another bottle of soda to bring to everyone. Dick placed his cup against the ice machine in the fridge as Raven sidled into the room.

"Hey Raven. What's up? Had enough of Mario Kart?" He laughed uneasily as he pulled his cup away. "Or did they finally move onto Mario Party?"

The guys loved playing team games, especially ones simple enough for everyone to play. But playing for four hours straight gave him a headache. After not playing any kind of video game for so long he didn't feel the desire to play anything. Not that he was bothered by that; he had spent too much time playing games anyway.

"I want to talk to you before we leave tomorrow," Raven said.

"Sure," Dick said, pulling the soda towards him. "What about? Our next visit?"

Hopefully next time he would go to Jump City. He hadn't moved from Gotham much since he had been back. Getting a little California sunshine would do him some good. Surfing sounded so much fun right now.

"Alfred wants me to talk to you."

"About what?"

"You tend to avoid the subject, don't you?" Raven asked. "You know you can't hide things from me, Dick. I'm more aware than anyone else what you're feeling."

Dick forgot all about his drink. Sometimes he felt afraid of Raven because he knew that she could feel his every emotion. Even when he was laughing and joking with the Titans she knew when he was crying inside.

"What happened after we fought on Wayne Enterprises?" Raven asked.

"Does it matter?" Dick asked quietly. "You're alive, right?"

"You haven't talked to me about anything. I know you don't want me to know certain things, and I understand your need for privacy. But at least tell me _something. _Nine months is a long time. Why don't we start in February, the day after we fought on Wayne Enterprises?"

As she spoke, Dick took an ice cube from his cup. He clutched the ice cube tightly in his hand, the freezing cold anchoring him to reality. She was right, of course. If she really wanted to know, then she would read his mind, but Raven respected his privacy. She wanted him to talk of his own free will.

"Just one story," Dick said.

"No. You'll have to give me more than that. But for now, one is enough."

Dick glanced at the door, as though afraid that the Titans would burst through at any moment. Their laughter sounded muffled through the kitchen door.

** -TT- **

** Slade's Haunt **

** Jump City, California **

Dick couldn't get up the next morning.

Dick gasped in pain as he collapsed back onto his bed, trying to remember the fight after he had come back from Wayne Enterprises the night before. The fights had always been fair, at least as fair as they could be with Slade. That was a beat-down. There was no other way to describe it.

_That's right: I have to call him "Master" now, _Dick thought glumly.

The door opened.

"Don't worry. It's just me."

Something about Wintergreen's voice seemed a bit off, though Dick could not identify what. Nothing about this was strange; Wintergreen was the one who usually took care of his injuries. It was only natural that he was here now, though Dick felt incredibly uneasy.

"Where's Slade?" Dick asked.

"Don't worry about Slade right now," Wintergreen said. "Sit up."

It hurt so much to move that Wintergreen had to help him, shards of pain stabbing him as Wintergreen gently pulled him to a sitting position. An uncomfortable pounding grew more pronounced the more Dick moved his head.

"I'll be doing the usual," Wintergreen said, opening his black box. "This time I really need to make sure you didn't get a concussion or a cracked rib, okay?"

Sometimes Dick refused medical help, but this time around there was nothing he could do. This time he needed help. Wintergreen shone a light into his eyes.

"Ah," Dick flinched. "Too bright."

He heard Wintergreen sigh. Oh boy, that probably wasn't good. Wintergreen handed him a pill, which Dick recognized as ibuprofen.

"Take it. It'll help with the headache."

He swallowed the pill and drank some water as Wintergreen handed him a bag of ice.

"Keep the ice on your face. It'll reduce the swelling on your black eyes. I'll be back soon with something to eat."

Wintergreen left the room. For the millionth time Dick wondered why Wintergreen worked for Slade. He was okay. Not insufferable, not mean, but just okay. And for now Dick could deal with that. He shut his eyes, intending to fall back to sleep. If they were going to leave him here then it was best he try to get some sleep. Muffled voices—angry voices—sounded garbled in Dick's ears. He snapped his eyes opened, suddenly keen on hearing every word.

"You gave him a concussion, Slade!" Wintergreen shouted. "And God knows what else!"

"I did what I had to do!"

"You didn't have to beat him! You already beat him in a fair fight."

Dick was vaguely aware that Slade and Wintergreen argued about certain things, though they always argued in whispers or left the room. He knew that they mostly argued about him, and he'd give anything to hear what they said. Now he wasn't so sure he wanted to hear.

He jumped slightly as the door flung open. Dick felt strangely vulnerable sitting in bed, holding a bag of ice to his unmasked face. Slade hardly came into his room. Dick lowered the bag of ice, watching Slade warily. Wintergreen was nowhere to be seen.

"Dick, what am I to you?" Slade asked.

"Master."

"I see you've learned your place." Slade grabbed his chin and examined Dick's black eyes. "I'm surprised you can see at all."

Ouch.

"Contrary to what you may be thinking now, Dick, I have no desire to hurt you. I will admit that I was in a bit of a rage last night, but…well…it was _justified." _

Slade let go of him. Was this justified? The consequences had been clear enough from the beginning, and Dick openly defied them. This wouldn't have happened if he hadn't tried to fight back.

"Only you can prevent this from happening again, Dick. Do you understand?"

"Yes, Master."

"You learn so quickly. I hope you keep this up."

"I will, Master."

He hated saying it. Every single time he said it their inequality became more pronounced. Dick averted his eyes from Slade, staring instead at the floor. Fear muted any and all defiance. Before he had felt a different kind of fear: fear for his friends. But now he felt fear for himself.

"I suppose you won't be able to train today," Slade mused. "I still expect you to show up for your other lessons tonight. Think you can do that?"

"Yes, Master."

Master. How archaic. To say that for the rest of his _life? _The thought made Dick more upset. For the first time since he had been here, he felt on the verge of tears. He could feel the hot tears welling in his eyes, feel his nose begin to clog, feel the inevitable shame burn his face as he attempted to contain his emotions.

He felt like a little kid staying home sick from a day at school. And for once he didn't complain, didn't snap back at Slade, but gave up arguing.

"I'll be out all day cleaning up _your _mess from last night. Didn't expect you to blow up Wayne Enterprises, but…" Slade paused. "You must really not like him, if you're willing to destroy his sign like that."

"I don't even know myself...Master."

Slade looked at him one last time, perhaps wondering if he should lecture Dick again. Then, blessedly, he left the room.

* * *

**A/N: Kind of short, but the request was to write a oneshot shortly after apprentice part 2. I'll do six more oneshots that take place in the months leading up to NS. Requests are welcome, though at least one or two stories are already locked into the frame narrative. **

**Review! **


	8. 2 March

**Disclaimer: I don't own anyone. **

**A/N: This was a specific request. In honor of Dick's bday on the first day of spring, I present a birthday fic. I meant to post this sooner, but I'm in the middle of the most intense part of my semester so I've been feeling kind of down. I won't be posting anything for the next two weeks in order to get everything I need for graduation done. **

**Though fair warning: this is very much a character study. Some of you may find this boring, but I found it fascinating to write.**

* * *

**March **

** -DG-**

** Wayne Manor**

** Gotham City **

Dick had a great seventeenth birthday party. Spending time with his friends was the only thing he wanted, but he didn't want anything over the top. Of course, everyone else had different plans and rocked the house with unfamiliar music and rave lights. Everyone was winding down after a night of debauchery (Roy did sneak in some beer, though Alfred caught him), and Dick had already said goodbye to most of his friends. The Titans were staying in Wayne Manor again, so they helped clean up once the other party-goers left.

Despite everyone's protests, Dick helped clean up the mess as well. He found himself cleaning a room with Raven, who used her powers to clean up large sections of the floor.

"If Star tries to put that crown of meat on my head again I swear I'll go crazy," Dick said. "Can't believe that's an actual Tamaranean tradition."

Raven turned and took the broom from him, smiling slightly. "You shouldn't be cleaning up. It's your birthday."

"It's my party. My mess."

"I will make you stop, Dick Grayson." Raven handed him a present wrapped in blue paper. "Here. I'd rather give this to you now. I know you didn't ask for anything, but I got you something."

Dick opened the present.

"Sherlock Holmes," Dick said, turning over the book. "Well…."

"If you don't like it I can return it," Raven said, perhaps a little too quickly. "I didn't know what to get you and I thought—"

Dick stepped back as Raven reached for it. "Don't. I didn't get to finish reading it."

He flipped through the book, remembering how he had delighted in figuring out the clues before the end of the stories. Raven set a hand on his arm.

"Are you happy?"

"I had a great day. Of course I'm happy."

"I shouldn't have given that to you," Raven said. "Why does that remind you of Slade?"

"I read a lot of books on my downtime, and this was one of them," Dick replied. "Don't worry about it. You didn't know."

Now he felt uncomfortable. With so many people around to distract him today, he hadn't gotten the chance to think about his birthday last year. Not that he wanted to think much about it.

"I had a better birthday than I did last year," Dick said. "It was a pretty crappy sweet sixteen, but I made up for it this year."

"Oh. Wasn't a good day?"

"Actually no. Wasn't a bad day, but it wasn't a good day either."

"Can you talk about it?"

"Yeah… yeah I think I can."

** -TT- **

** Haunt **

** Jump City, California **

** 8:32am **

There were only three distinct occasions Dick remembered when he was allowed to sleep in. Anything that deviated from his strict schedule he met with suspicion, as that usually meant Slade had bigger and better plans for him. So when he woke at precisely 8:32am he felt a little unnerved.

_Maybe it's a test, _Dick thought as he scrambled to put some clothes on.

Slade liked tests. He was one of those teachers who liked pop quizzes, who liked to constantly monitor his student's progress, and what with all this private tutoring there was really no escaping it. Constant quizzing was almost as stressful as thinking about the Titans.

He nearly ran into a Sladebot on his way to the kitchen. Dick stood still, eyeing the Sladebot warily. The thing watched him with blank eyes. Weird.

Dick walked into the kitchen and found Wintergreen, who was obviously waiting for him.

"Where is…uh…" Dick paused, glancing around once more. "Slade?"

For a solid month Dick had been calling Slade "Master." By now it was automatic, but Dick still wouldn't say it unless Slade was there. Wintergreen, to Dick's surprise, never enforced the rule. Sometimes Dick got the sense that Wintergreen didn't agree with it.

"Slade is out for the day," Wintergreen said, handing him a piece of paper. "But he left you a list of things to do."

_Of course he did. _

To be fair, the list didn't seem too bad. Though if Slade was out for the day, then why would he bother letting Dick sleep in? Slade didn't believe in wasting time.

So Dick went to the gym and worked out on his own, grateful for the time alone. He spent his time practicing his acrobatics, which he could usually do without Slade's permission. As he accidentally fell onto his back from an unfortunate twist he knew that he needed to practice more. That was pitiful.

Dick pushed himself to his elbows, breathing heavily from the fall, and found himself facing a Sladebot.

"What are you looking at?" he demanded of a watchful Sladebot. "Don't you have something better to do?"

Talking to it was stupid. It wasn't as if the Sladebots recognized him as their master anyway. Dick grabbed a towel, wiped his sweaty face, and threw it at the Sladebot's face. He was done here.

**-TT- **

** 1:07pm**

Dick organized his day by meals and sleep, never by activities. One day could be dedicated entirely to combat practice, and the next to computer programming. Today's subject: Russian.

_Memorize and perfect these verb conjugations for the present tense, _Dick read. Russian was difficult, but Dick couldn't really argue against learning a new language. Slade had a reason for it: many of Slade's international contacts were Russia. Maybe it was a lingering Cold War thing. Who knew? Slade was an old enough fart to be involved in the war against communism. Haha, Grayson, you are hilarious.

But learning a new language, while stressful at times under Slade's guidance, was something he preferred to do over other things like hacking or robbing a bank.

He turned the corner and jumped in surprise. The Sladebot was there yet again. Dick instinctively punched it. He hissed in pain and massaged his fist as the Sladebot stood still.

"You're going to give me a heart attack one of these days," Dick scolded. "Do that again and I'll rip your face off."

If Slade was listening in—as he probably was—then Dick didn't care.

"What are you supposed to be, a guardian angel or a babysitter?"

Talking to the Sladebot was pointless, but Dick didn't have anyone else to talk to these days. Whatever. He examined the damage to the robot's face, wondering if Slade would get mad at him. Aside from the impressive dent he had gouged into the side of its face, Dick realized that something else was wrong with the Sladebot. One of its arms twitched incessantly.

"Oh. You're defective."

Dick hadn't learned how to mess with the Sladebots yet. He was aware that, sometime in the near future, Slade was going to teach him how to fix them so the lazy butt wouldn't have to do it himself. Right now he still didn't trust Dick with them. Dick didn't blame him.

"I hope Slade puts you down like a dog," Dick said. "Stupid robot."

_Say that in Russian, Grayson. _

Maybe if he said it backwards it would happen.

**-TT- **

** 4:11pm. **

Downtime.

Slade was a firm believer in intellectual hobbies. No TV, no movies, except maybe on special occasions, though Slade was deliberately vague on what constituted a "special occasion." When Dick wasn't busy feeling sorry for himself he was perpetually bored.

Reading books was a Slade-approved activity, though of course everything went through Slade-approved censorship. At least that's what Dick thought. Didn't matter, since he read the books anyway.

There were other rooms to hang out in, and Dick occasionally wandered through the Haunt when he was allowed to. Staying in his room when he wasn't out working was depressing. Not that the gears were good company, or the Sladebots, or the giant TV screens hanging out in the main room, but being in a bigger room made him feel less claustrophobic. Today he wandered to another room that acted as both some sort of office and library, the place where many of his non-combative lessons took place.

Most of the books Slade let him have weren't exactly light reading, or things that he wouldn't have picked. Infuriating, yeah, but Dick found some wonderful gems.

Take Ernest Hemingway for example. Reading _The Old Man and the Sea _in middle school had been one of the more infuriating parts of his public education. It was slow and incredibly boring, and a bit anti-climatic. But Hemingway, for some bizarre reason, was on Slade's list of approved authors, so Dick found himself reading _The Sun Also Rises. _

There was something about the story of Jake and his distant friends that Dick found oddly compelling. They were part of the Lost Generation, the emotionally damaged soldiers who returned from the trenches and could not find themselves again. Unlike reading about the old man fishing, Dick sometimes found himself more upset after reading this book. If he ever got out of this, would he be as damaged as these people were, unable to go back to a normal life?

Dick suspected that Slade had never read any Ernest Hemingway, but vaguely knew that Hemingway was some sort of famous American author, so obviously reading the classics wouldn't be a bad thing. Better than reading the crap published nowadays. Slade's reasoning was weird.

Maybe he shouldn't be a mercenary. Better to take up literary theory than kill people.

Dick slumped until he was lying on the couch and left the book open on his stomach. Right now he didn't feel like a prisoner. At times like these he could forget that he was here.

He sat up when he heard someone come in.

"If you're going to follow me, then I might as well give you a name."

Did the Sladebot go bonkers this morning? What if this was another test. Somehow Dick didn't think so, and if it was then he didn't care.

"I'm going to name you Jake," Dick said. "You're defective like he is. Though I suspect you didn't have any balls to lose in the first place."

He laughed to himself at the terrible joke, and laughed at the fact that he now talked to the stupid Sladebots.

**-TT- **

** 5:38pm**

Slade still hadn't shown up. Maybe he was around, but didn't bother to talk to his apprentice. Not that that bothered Dick: the more time he spent away from Slade the better. But Slade had been gone all day, and Dick couldn't help but wonder what he was up to.

Dick glanced at the list again and wondered if Slade forgot something. He had done remarkably little today. Maybe Slade wanted him rested for another mission tonight. Dick hadn't been on one lately, so it was entirely possible.

His stomach growled as he walked into the kitchen. It smelled like…pizza?

Okay, now _this _was weird.

One of the many things that annoyed Dick was Slade's control over his diet. Food Nazi. That was one of many Dick's secret nicknames for Slade. No junk food. Anytime Dick tried to break that rule while out on a mission he got lectured.

"Why do we have pizza, Wintergreen?" Dick asked.

"Sometimes I don't want to cook. I need days off too."

Living in the same household with the villains reminded Dick that they were human as well. Something Dick suspected he would never tell the Titans. Arguing about something as mundane as replenishing the toilet paper was hilarious in context of everything else that had happened to him.

There must be some sort of catch.

Dick ate the pizza, feeling very strange and very awkward all the while. He felt like he was breaking some sort of unspoken rule he would be punished for later. Anything could be a test. But Wintergreen wouldn't do that to him, would he?

Dick automatically stood up when Slade entered the room.

"You can sit down," Slade said coolly.

Dick slumped back into his chair. Great. Time for the daily talk-down. They were overdue for one today. What clever putdowns would Slade come up with today?

"Did you do everything I asked?"

"Yes, Master."

An awkward silence stretched between them. No matter how many times Dick said the word it still felt awkward and wrong. Dick got the sense that Slade still wanted to talk, though about what Dick hadn't the faintest idea. He had more success talking to the Sladebot.

"Did you have a good day?"

Dick looked up. "I suppose so. I don't know."

"Why is that?"

This was a trick. Slade wanted him to admit out loud that he hated it here. Then he would have more reason to lecture Dick.

"Why didn't you have a good day, Dick?"

Was Slade genuinely interested in his feelings? Had he been gone away all day in the hopes that Dick would feel better? Sometimes Slade did that, but it never worked.

"My friends aren't here, _Sir," _Dick replied in a tight voice. "Kind of depresses me when I just have Jake for company."

Dick jabbed a thumb towards the Sladebot.

"You named the robot Jake?" Slade paused. "Interesting."

Jake the Sladebot never asked for this life. Jake the Sladebot never asked to be slapped around. Jake the Sladebot was just a pawn programmed to do Slade's bidding. Jake the Sladebot was a better friend than Slade could ever be.

Dick got the sense that Slade knew something he didn't. He seemed… off today. How could Dick describe it? What was up with today?

"You have the night off," Slade said abruptly.

"Why?"

Slade grimaced. Oh, right. Sometimes Dick still forgot to address him correctly. It was hard to remember during casual conversation, though he remembered often enough when he was in trouble.

"I have other work. I'm sure you'll find something productive to do."

Whoa, Slade must be in a tolerable mood tonight if he was letting the whole "Master" thing go. Best to take advantage of it while he still could. Dick slid out of his seat and moved towards the kitchen door.

"Wait." Dick rolled his eyes and turned back around. Of course Slade wasn't done talking. "You can… uh… watch a movie if you want. I do have a box of movies in the back you can look through."

_I am so confused. What the hell is going on? _

"Right…" Dick shot Slade a strange look. "I'll… look into that."

"I have something for you," Slade said.

Slade shoved a box into Dick's arms. "It's a shaving kit. Thought it would be better than the disposable blades you use now."

Slade left quickly as though… as though he felt… awkward? Dick didn't know how else to describe it. Why was _no one _explaining anything to him? How could Dick explain that he didn't _need _a nice razor yet? The disposable razors worked just fine on the few scraggly strands that he managed to grow.

Still holding the box, Dick stared after Slade, unable to comprehend what had just happened. Hell, he couldn't even comprehend his entire _day. _Well, whatever. Slade was just in a generous mood today. Dick walked out of the kitchen, though Wintergreen stopped him with a hand on the shoulder.

"By the way," Wintergreen said. "Happy birthday."

Dick remembered, and chastised himself for forgetting his own birthday. Sweet sixteen. His shoulders slumped sadly as he glanced down at the box Slade had shoved into his arms. At least someone else had remembered.

* * *

**A/N: To be honest, I actually dislike **_**The Sun Also Rises, **_**but it's still a good book and Hemingway is a great writer. I was trying to think of an American classic aside from **_**The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn **_**that Dick could read. My other choice was **_**Long Day's Journey Into Night, **_**but even though it's one of my favorite plays I feel like Dick wouldn't read a play.**

**And I spent long hours on skype brainstorming and attempting to figure out the perfect awkward birthday present. This is what I came up with. **

**Review! **


	9. 2: April

**Disclaimer: I don't own anyone. **

**A/N: I meant to post this earlier, but I was a nation delegate in a model UN thing, which consumed me for a while. While I'm not completely free, my schedule has cleared up considerably now that that is over.**

* * *

** April **

** -DG- **

** Jump City, California **

** Downtown **

It had been a long while since Dick had fought the HIVE kids, and the last time it hadn't been as Nightwing. They were stirring up trouble downtown, as usual. Trying to rob the same bank of Perez.

None of them stepped near him. At least not at first. When Nightwing appeared in front of the Titans the HIVE seemed shock.

"I thought Blüdhaven was your turf now!" Gizmo exclaimed. "What are you doing here, you snot-nosed maggot?"

Nightwing picked up Gizmo and ripped away the backpack. The first time Dick had fought them, he didn't understand the HIVE kids. Now he knew exactly how to take them down, though he didn't feel good about it. They were still kids like he was.

"I got him covered!" Cyborg exclaimed. "I have a score to settle with Gizmo!"

Beast Boy joined him. Raven and Star were busy dealing with Jinx, which left Nightwing and Mammoth. The two circled each other warily, though Mammoth made no move to attack him. So, the guy wasn't stupid enough to forget their last encounter.

Mammoth, as usual, moved first. The fight didn't last long. Nightwing used Mammoth's own weight and clumsiness to take him down. In seconds Nightwing had Mammoth pinned to the ground. An incredible feat, given the fact that Nightwing was nowhere near as big as Mammoth.

"You're not with him anymore," Mammoth said. "Why not?"

"You're outnumbered," Nightwing growled. "And everyone knows where my true loyalties lie."

"He had to save you last—"

Nightwing's fist smashed into the side of Mammoth's face.

"I don't forget, Mammoth," Nightwing snarled. "Mark my words: I promised myself that I'd be back to take you all out."

"Nightwing!"

Beast Boy pulled him off of Mammoth. "Dude, what's gotten into you?"

The fight was long over. The Titans had already taken out the HIVE kids, save for Mammoth.

The others looked at him like he was crazy. It wasn't often Dick went berserk while out on patrol these days, but when he did it could get bad. Everyone except Raven looked apprehensive. They locked eyes, and in that moment he knew that she knew everything in a single instant.

** -DG- **

** HIVE Academy **

** Jump City, California **

This was, by far, the most awkward elevator ride he had ever experienced. Dick and Slade stood silently next to each other, neither of them looking at the other.

In the three or so months Dick had been training with Slade, he had only met one or two of Slade's contacts. Considering the fact that he was still a liability, as Dick still revolted whenever he had the chance (not that he did it often these days), Slade didn't let Dick accompany him until now. And even though Dick was interested in Slade's plans and contacts, he wasn't exactly in the best of moods today.

"While we're here we will formally introduce ourselves as Master and apprentice," Slade said casually.

"Can we stop that?" Dick suddenly demanded.

"Stop what?"

"The calling 'me master' thing."

"We're not going to talk about this right now," Slade replied. "Wait until we get home."

Slade mysteriously disappeared or shut down the conversation whenever Dick wanted to talk about these things. Every time was a bad time to talk.

"No."

Slade grabbed his collar and shook him. "If you cause me trouble today then you'll regret it."

The elevator doors opened.

"Mr. Slade," the HIVE Headmistress said coolly. "On time, as always."

Slade let go of Dick's collar and pushed him out of the elevator. Dick found himself in a nice office, presumably the HIVE Headmistress' office. She moved behind the desk as Slade strode into the room, pushing Dick towards the headmistress. Oddly enough, Dick felt like a badly-behaved student being sent to the principal's office.

"Why did you wish to speak with me, Slade?" The headmistress asked.

"I'd like to apologize for tormenting your students," Slade said. "Disciplining them wasn't necessary."

"And this is…?" she asked, gesturing towards Dick.

"My apprentice."

"The missing Robin," she said bluntly. "I was wondering where you had gone."

The headmistress stood in front of him, just an inch shorter than he was. Before becoming Slade's apprentice, Dick had only heard rumors of the HIVE Headmistress. She had been a successful villain in her younger days, and decided to carry on the tradition by training young criminals. Taking her down would cause the entire Academy to collapse. Dick wasn't sure if she lived up to his expectations, though he had to admit that she had a cool and assertive air.

She slapped him.

Dick grunted, his eyes widening as she stood there serenely, her hands behind her back. He moved, as though to strike her back, but Slade shot him a warning glare.

"You may have done a heel-faced turn, my young friend, but that does _not _excuse you for putting the majority of my graduates into jail!"

"I understand, Ma'am."

The Headmistress' eyebrows shot up in surprise. "Impressive."

It took all of Dick's self-control not to lash out at the HIVE Headmistress.

"You've done a great thing, Slade: ridding Jump City of Robin. Without a leader the Titans are crumbling." She turned towards Slade. "Why don't you just kill them?" she asked. "It would make everything less complicated."

"The Titans are not a single entity," Slade replied. "They are intricately connected to the wider superhero community. Don't forget that the Doom Patrol is Beast Boy's adoptive family. Isn't that right, apprentice?"

They looked at him expectantly. It took him a moment to realize that they wanted him to affirm their information.

"Yes."

He felt like he was betraying his entire team. He bit the inside of his mouth to stop himself from saying something stupid. It would only embarrass Slade in front of his contacts, which _would _get Dick in very deep trouble.

"This is better," Slade continued. "The Justice League and the Doom Patrol won't do anything, not unless they want the kids to die."

They exchanged a few more words about the Titans, though Dick tuned out of the conversation. They were talking about killing and controlling the Titans. At this point there wasn't anything he could do to stop the HIVE Academy from hurting the Titans. His continued good behavior only guaranteed that Slade would do nothing.

"Why don't we talk in private?" Slade suggested. "I have things of a more...delicate nature to speak of. Things my apprentice has no need to hear."

_Why did you bring me here in the first place? _The Headmistress seemed to have the same question.

"Proof of my good intentions, Headmistress," Slade said. "And proof that I have the Titans under my control."

"It's break time for the students," the Headmistress said. "He can go outside."

"I'd prefer to stay here, if you don't mind."

"And do you think that I trust you in my office alone, Robin?" the Headmistress asked.

"No, Ma'am, I don't think you trust me."

"He's so polite."

"Only because he knows he'll be in trouble if he's not."

Dick didn't want to go out to meet the other students. The headmistress called in her purple-robed guards, who laid a hand on Dick's shoulders.

"We won't be long," Slade said.

Was that reassurance? Dick couldn't tell. Reluctantly, he allowed the guards to lead him away to the courtyard, where the HIVE kids were out on their break. The entire courtyard fell silent when he walked out. The hairs on the back of Dick's neck rose.

"Why, if it isn't bird boy." Gizmo flew in front of him, his backpack helicopter whirring softly. "What's with the getup?"

Dick didn't answer. They could figure it out themselves. Besides, Dick didn't trust himself talking. He might say something stupid that could exacerbate the situation.

"He works for Slade," Jinx said, pointing to the insignia on Dick's chest. "Haven't you been listening to the rumors?"

"But I thought they were just rumors!" Mammoth replied. "Robin wouldn't work with Slade!"

Dick continued to be silent. Instead he surveyed the area, looking for a place to escape should the kids decide to jump him. Mammoth shoved him backwards.

"What, do ya think you're better than us?" Mammoth demanded. "Why don't you answer our questions, punk?"

There was no good answer to that. Dick turned and walked away, intending to find somewhere else to brood.

He tripped as Jinx tripped him with a wave of charms. The HIVE students swarmed around him, snickering as they shoved him back towards Mammoth. Someone finally punched him.

The chanting grew louder as Dick reflexively punched the student back. Every move was professional and smooth, just as Slade taught him. But no matter how professional he was, Dick couldn't defeat the entire student body on his own.

Mammoth held his arms back. Students that Dick remembered fighting—such as Jinx and Gizmo—were at the forefront, ready to knock him out. Several other students he didn't know began pummeling him.

As the students hit him, several frightening thoughts flitted through his mind. He couldn't decide if this would be worse than letting Slade beat the crap out of him. If Slade would be disappointed that he couldn't defend himself when he spent so much time teaching Dick how to be aggressive, or if Dick would be more disappointed in himself.

_Slade's the only one who can help me, _Dick thought suddenly. _I'm wearing the ear-pieces. _

All he had to do was touch them and speak. Ask for help. That was reasonable, right? Even if Slade was in a meeting with the Headmistress?

No. Despite their powers, despite Dick's status as a former superhero, this was nothing more than a schoolyard fight. Dick could handle himself. Right?

They wouldn't kill him, would they? Dick never thought of the HIVE kids as killers, merely delinquents who liked to steal. All Dick had to do was endure the beating before they got bored of him. It hurt his ego to think like that, but he learned to endure. But this was getting out-of-control.

Someone stepped on his wrist. Dick tried to twist his way out, but only succeeding in hurting it more.

This was it. They were going to kick and punch and slap him around until he passed out. At this point he didn't know who was hurting him. All he knew was that he was hurting. Mammoth picked him back up and held his arms back again, though at this point it wasn't necessary. As Dick hung his head Slade's communicator fell out of his ear. He caught it with one hand and squeezed it gently, activating the speaker.

_"MASTER!" _Dick screamed. _"HELP ME!" _

A spectacular punch knocked his face to the side, hard enough to knock the other ear piece out. A student wearing a golden mask, one that Dick didn't recognize, sneered in front of his face and grabbed a fistful of Dick's hair.

"Just because you've gone bad doesn't mean that we respect you, Robin," the student said.

"Let him go, Private HIVE," Jinx said. "Let me talk to him."

Private HIVE stepped aside to let Jinx through. Though she had participated enthusiastically in the fight, she was an oddity.

"You don't call him Slade," she said. "Even we do."

In that moment Dick tried to convey everything to her with a single glance: that he was not working with Slade of his own accord. He didn't need to work hard to do it. After all, he had already arrived with leftover bruises from the past week's training, and now he was hanging limply from Mammoth's hands with blood running down his face. Jinx seemed smart, smarter than most of the HIVE kids at any rate. Dick glimpsed a possible wave of pity on Jinx's face.

Out of the entire student body, what was she doing here?

_"ENOUGH!" _

Mammoth dropped Dick, who crumpled to the ground. Several HIVE guards scurried into the courtyard to restore order. A small stream of blood ran down Dick's face onto the pavement.

The HIVE students parted as the Headmistress walked through the crowd. She walked briskly towards Mammoth, who backed away quickly from Dick's fallen form.

"You all know the rules," the Headmistress said. "No fighting in between classes."

Slade walked out, the remaining HIVE students parting to let him through. Dick's wrist throbbed painfully, and he had difficulty breathing.

"Have you had enough?" Slade asked. "Got your five minutes of revenge?"

No one answered him.

"Robin works for me now. You fight him, and you mess with me. Robin is your equal now and you will treat him as such. He is learning, just like you. He will make mistakes, just like you."

Dick coughed as he rolled over, the sun blinding him. Part of him was vaguely aware that Slade refined from calling Dick by his real name, or even by the appellation "apprentice" in front of the other kids, but the pain nearly consumed him.

"Should I call in the nurse?" the Headmistress asked.

"No," Slade said. "That won't be necessary."

"I assure you that this won't happen again," the Headmistress said. "The students should know better—"

"I would have done the same," Dick interjected. "Don't hurt them."

Yeah, they hurt him, but he didn't want them to be punished. They were still kids. They still had a chance to get out of a criminal life. He should help them if he could.

Wintergreen was going to yell at Slade again when he found out what had happened. Most of the time Wintergreen kept quiet, except when Slade intentionally beat Dick for a reason he deemed insufficient. Slade knelt down next to him.

"Dick," Slade whispered. "It's all right. They're not going to hurt you anyone."

The HIVE kids were completely gone now, even the guards and the Headmistress had disappeared. Slade straightened.

"You don't look too bad. Get up."

His injuries weren't too bad, but everything hurt all the same. Slade put a hand on his shoulder and directed him to another room within the HIVE Academy. Some sort of office, Dick didn't know. Slade took out a first-aid kit from a nearby cupboard.

"You probably think that I set you up," Slade said. "Truth is, Dick, I didn't think she'd send you out to her students. Even though they should be behaved."

Dick touched his bleeding nose and sighed. Dick's nose would probably never be right again, not after how many times he had broken it fighting people.

"But you did the right thing: calling for my help. There were too many for you to handle, and you knew it."

Slade gestured for Dick to hold out his wrist. Reluctantly, Dick held it out for inspection.

"Sprained wrist." Slade hummed in annoyance. "They really worked you over."

He wrapped the hurt wrist tightly in athletic wrap. "That's the most I can do for now. Wintergreen will deal with it when we get home. Get in the car."

If he had to be a sling then he would get out of physical training for a long while. Funny, how Dick looked forward to such mundane things. Most days he felt drained, too tired to participate in anything else.

"What if I hadn't called for help?"

Slade didn't answer.

"Right," Dick mumbled. "Whatever you say, _Master." _

No matter how many times Dick said it, he would always find a way to make the word biting. There was no way Slade didn't notice it. At the moment it didn't matter if having Dick call him for help was intentional. What did matter was that Dick talk to Slade about using the word "Master." Though, to be honest, he was terrified of the conversation that would follow.

* * *

**A/N: This became longer than I intended it to be. Ah well! Review! **


	10. 4 May

**Disclaimer: I don't own anyone. **

**A/N: This is another request. I had a difficult time writing this, but it's finally done.**

* * *

** -May- **

** -DG- **

** Jump City, California **

** Titans Tower **

He couldn't sleep.

Though he had cleaned out his old room in Titans Tower of all the old newspapers, he still felt uncomfortable. Everything seemed oddly foreign to him, even though they were the very same things he had used as a Titan. He didn't understand, since he hadn't felt this way when he returned to Wayne Manor.

Dick sat up in bed, staring into the darkness, tired but wide awake. This was his first night back in Titans Tower. After a few minutes he rolled out of bed and walked down to the kitchen. Maybe a glass of water would calm his nerves.

He didn't fail to notice that someone was following him as he filled his glass with water, but he didn't care. He knew who it was.

"Can't sleep either?" Dick asked, turning to face Raven.

She didn't look like she just rolled out of bed. How come she always looked so put-together, so calm all of the time? Dick knew that he looked like a mess. Standing in the kitchen in nothing but pajama pants wasn't exactly how he wanted to talk to Raven, but for now it would do.

"I'm sorry, Dick, about this afternoon with the HIVE. I didn't mean to do that."

Dick drank half of his water in one swig.

"What, accidentally invade my mind? It doesn't matter," Dick said bluntly. "It was just one of many incidents with the HIVE Academy."

"They beat you up."

"It was bad, all right?" Dick backed off and put his glass in the sink. "I don't really want to talk about it."

"The nightmares came back, didn't they?"

He turned his back to her again.

"I needed more time before coming back to Jump," he said finally. "I'll find a motel to crash at. I can't be here. Too many memories."

Raven set a hand on his arm. "Maybe it would be better if you crashed on the couch instead of staying in your old room."

He gazed out of the window that showed the bay bathed in moonlight. Dick remembered all of the things Slade had said about Titans Towers, all of the criticisms he had accepted without comment because he knew that they were true.

"It probably won't make a difference."

"Can we talk?" Raven asked. "I only saw your memory because you felt strongly about it. You were emotionally vulnerable. You can't afford to feel that way during a fight, especially if your enemy has powers similar to mine."

"You sound a lot like Slade."

"Dick, don't shut me down—"

"It was a really low point for me," Dick snapped. "What you saw about my beatdown by the HIVE kids. That's when I had the most breakdowns."

"That's why you need to talk about it. That's why you came back to Jump. You can't fully heal until you stay here for a while."

Jump City was full of incredibly painful memories. After all, he had spent most of his apprenticeship here, in a district far away but close enough for him to see Titans Tower when he walked out. He almost felt as if he didn't belong here. Dick moved towards the door.

"Don't leave," Raven said, placing her hands on his shoulders. "Star will be sad if you do. We all will be."

This time her hands on his shoulders felt comforting.

"Tell me something else that happened, Dick. Trust me: it'll make you feel better."

** -TT-**

** Jump City, California **

** Haunt **

Of late he hadn't been sleeping well. The nightmares had come back with full force, more vivid and terrifying than ever before. Dick didn't even think that his nightmares after his parents' deaths were this bad. He didn't know why and wished that they wouldn't be. At this point in time Dick felt constantly on the edge and jumped whenever Slade slammed the doors.

It was strange: he had never expected to be so skittish. He knew that he could do better and should do better at not appearing scared, but he was too tired to breakdowns had happened already, and Dick didn't want to force himself into another one if he could. He had accepted his strict schedule, accepted the fact that he had little control over his missions, but there was only one other thing he was willing to fight for.

When he looked back on this point in time, Dick identified this as his lowest point. Sure, he had been on the precipice of another breakdown when the Bat villains showed up for dinner, but this had been worse just because he barely tried to defy Slade.

Sometimes Dick was left alone in the evening, when Slade went out to do his villainous business. Dick looked up from his homework when Slade walked back into the Haunt one particular night, allowing his pencil to fall to the table. Tonight Slade did not appear to be in a bad mood. Certain contracts made Slade angry, and though he had never taken his anger out on Dick, Dick was always afraid that he would.

He picked up his pencil and tapped it against the tabletop, considering whether or not he wanted to talk to Slade tonight. Starting a conversation was always awful, but when else would be a good time?

"I don't want to call you Master anymore," Dick blurted out.

Slade paused. "What was that?"

Idiot. Good way to make him mad.

"You don't want to call me 'Master' anymore?"

Some fast-talking was in order. Even when Dick tried to plan the conversation in his head, tried to anticipate what Slade would say and what would make him less angry, he still found himself stumbling over his words.

"Please, I just want this one thing."

Dick knew that he had nothing to bargain with, especially considering his behavior during the last few months.

"Are you going to try to run away again?" Slade asked quietly.

Just two weeks ago Dick tried to get away. It was another one of his half-cracked escape attempts, though that time he had gotten close to the trigger. It did not go well. The Sladebots had found him in some back ally in Jump City, and though Dick had beaten them before he was tired and outnumbered. His failure was only foreshadowed another breakdown.

"No, Master."

"Why are you trying to negotiate, Dick?" Slade asked. "This is something we established from the beginning."

Now Dick wanted to leave the conversation and pretend that it never happened. But no point backing out now.

"Well?"

"I'll do whatever you want, but I don't want to call you that."

"You haven't done anything to warrant that privilege," Slade said. "Until you can respect me, that's what you'll be calling me."

He knew everything. There was no way Slade didn't hear his screaming at night, didn't know how deeply into depression he was, no way Slade didn't notice how awful and tired he felt. But how could he make Slade understand that if he had this _one _thing, he'd be somewhat happier?

"If we're supposed to be partners in crime, I can't keep calling you that," Dick said. "You don't want me to be your subordinate forever, do you?"

"But that's later, and we're talking about now."

"I just want…" Dick swallowed his fear. "I know I tried to run away. I'm sorry."

Idiot, idiot, idiot! He should have waited until he made Slade happy robbing some bank or whatever.

"I hope you are. Unless you have something more important to tell me, then you need to go to your room. I have other things to do than deal with you."

Oh, so Dick wasn't important enough to talk to, even when Dick made the effort to start a conversation? Didn't Slade _want _him to talk?

"This _is _important, Slade!"

That did it. Slade grabbed his shirt and pulled him close. "We're done, Dick."

"Slade, please—"

Dick flinched as Slade raised his arm, as though to strike him. He waited and waited for Slade to hit him, but nothing happened. Dick opened his eyes and straightened. Slowly, Slade put his arm down.

"You're really trying, aren't you?"

Keeping his gaze focused on Slade was hard. Dick nodded.

"Why don't we make a deal, Dick?" Slade asked. "You're right: we've been fighting about this 'master' business for a long time. If you make substantial progress in your lessons, which I will dictate tomorrow morning, then you don't have to call me that anymore. Except, of course, in polite company. In the meantime, call me 'sir' instead. Is this acceptable to you?"

"Yes, Sir."

Most of his time was spent in the Haunt anyway. So long as Dick didn't have to call him master all the time, then he'd feel better. 'Sir' was more reasonable.

"Well, I'm glad we have that figured out." Slade sounded exasperated. "But if you try to run away again, then you're back to square one, kiddo."

"I understand, Sir."

"Good. Now get out of here. I have work to do."

Dick scooped up his work and hurried out of the main room, hardly believing that he had won this very small victory.

* * *

**A/N: Hmm, I feel as though there is not enough tension, but I tried. Anyway, the request was, "how did Dick go from calling Slade 'master' to 'sir' or just 'Slade'?" I'm trying to show that these small things happened in increments, and in such a slow manner that I decided to skip the character growth altogether for NS. Review! **


	11. 5: June

**Disclaimer: I don't own anyone. **

**A/N: This is another character study, and this one will be a little different. I tried to answer some of your questions from your last reviews.**

* * *

**-June- **

**-DG- **

**Jump City, California **

**Titans Tower**

No one was in the common room when Dick pulled out his cell phone and dialed a number. After last night's battle, which lasted well into the morning, everyone was too tired to stay up and crashed. A fresh nightmare made him get up before everyone else. Might as well take advantage of it.

He shifted his weight uneasily from foot-to-foot as he waited for the other end to pick up. After a few rings someone finally did.

"Hello?"

Dick hung up. Perhaps it was too soon. His stomach flipped uncomfortably, suddenly nervous, though he wasn't sure why.

As though on cue, the other Titans trickled into the common room. They looked a lot more rested than they did at 4am.

"Who were you talking to, Dick?" Starfire asked.

"No one, Star."

Dick stared at his cell phone. Even if he tried to tell himself that he had the wrong number, that it was the wrong person, he knew that it was the right one. It would only be a matter of minutes before the man on the other end traced his phone number.

Well, it didn't matter anyway.

"We need to visit the store of groceries," Starfire said. "Do you wish to join us?"

Dick chuckled softly under his breath. "Yeah, sure. Why not?"

As he pulled on a jacket his cell phone rang. He checked the caller ID. Oh.

He didn't answer.

"Who is it?" Raven asked.

"No one important," Dick said quickly. "Probably a wrong number."

Raven watched him closely as he put the phone away. If she knew who he had been trying to call, then she'd be mad. Or maybe just annoyed. Perhaps one day Dick would get answers. He glanced out of the bay window and wondered if Slade and Wintergreen ever moved back to Jump. So far he hadn't seen Slade's ugly mug around here, which was good, but it also meant that he might be planning something.

As they walked out of the Tower Raven sidled up to him.

"Who were you trying to call, Dick?" she asked quietly.

"No one." He looked at her. "No one that the others know about, anyway."

"Tell me anyway."

"William Wintergreen."

**-WW- **

**Jump City, California **

**Haunt **

Wintergreen watched Dick spiral down into depression. Sometimes it was difficult to distinguish between his anger and depression, as Dick was careful to hide his emotions whenever he could, but it was clear now. He was becoming more lethargic by the day, mostly by lack of verbal response to both Wintergreen and Slade.

This morning everyone had some down time. Slade had other things he needed to get done, so he had dismissed Dick until later that afternoon, with the understanding that Dick would finish his assignment before then. Wintergreen set down a tray on Slade's desk.

"Point of inquiry, Slade," Wintergreen said. "When do you actually expect the kid to like it here?"

"Sometime soon, I suppose."

Slade wasn't paying attention to him, but focused instead on the work he was doing on the computer.

"He's extremely unhappy."

"I know that. Unless you have a suggestion, Will, then I'd rather not talk about it."

"Is that why you agreed to not make him call you, 'Master'?"

"I didn't have time to deal with him," Slade replied, finally turning away from the computer. "I had bigger problems to deal with."

The boy was being neglected, and the more he tried to say it the more Slade ignored him. Yes, Wintergreen made sure that he was all right, but he didn't want to act as a baby-sitter all day. Yet somehow Wintergreen found himself more concerned for the kid than Slade seemed to be, and actually tried to help him when Slade wouldn't. Guilt thing, Wintergreen supposed.

"Sir, I think he needs to go outside," Wintergreen said.

"He gets to go outside on missions," Slade replied.

"That's not what I meant, Sir," Wintergreen sighed. "I need to run some errands today. Let him come with me."

Slade stared at him for a moment. "I don't think he wants to go grocery shopping with you, Will."

"I think you'd be surprised, Sir."

"Why?"

"Keeping him locked up here isn't doing him any good."

"He's been behaving well, even considering his last escape attempt."

"I don't think that was an escape attempt, Slade."

"What else could it have been? He even admitted it himself."

"He won't leave because of the Titans. And he only admitted it because you wouldn't believe anything else. I honestly think he just wanted to go outside because you're literally driving him insane." Slade didn't like being told what to do, even if it was from Wintergreen. When Slade didn't respond Wintergreen continued to speak. "You and I both know that he's been having nightmares."

"He'll get over them. There's nothing I can do."

"How can you stand the screaming?"

No matter how much Slade told himself that things like this didn't bother him, Wintergreen knew that it did.

"I can't hear him from the other end of the Haunt," Slade said finally. "If it continues get something to help him sleep."

Slade had always been like this, even with his own family. It wasn't that he didn't care; he just didn't know _how _to care.

"His problems won't go away with the nightmares," Wintergreen said. "You do need to make more of an effort to talk to him, and you need to let him go outside."

"Fine! Do whatever. Just make sure he's back by three."

Slade turned back to his work, grumbling under his breath. Wintergreen took the tray and walked away, somewhat happy that Slade partially listened to him. He made his way to Dick's room.

Dick was curled up on top of the covers of his bed, fast asleep, and his back turned towards the door. Lately Dick hadn't been reading books or doing anything "fun" during his breaks, but instead collapsed and slept.

"Richard," Wintergreen said. "Wake up."

Dick jerked slightly when Wintergreen placed a hand on his shoulder to shake him awake.

"I have a few errands to run. Do you want to come with me?"

"What?" It took him a few seconds to wake up. "What kind of errands?"

"Groceries. What else?"

"Oh. I…er…guess."

**-TT- **

Wintergreen didn't plan to go on an outing. He didn't plan on talking to the boy when he had other things to worry about, but having someone help him carry the groceries would be a nice change.

"Dick." The boy stiffened at the sound of Slade's voice. "Don't cause any trouble for Wintergreen."

"Yes, Sir."

Dick shrugged on his jacket and walked to the car, not looking back at Slade once.

**-TT- **

First they went to the pharmacy. Much to Wintergreen's dismay, he had to make these trips often because Dick was perpetually injured because of missions or training. He had some prescriptions to pick up anyway. Dick fell asleep on the way there, using his scrunched-up jacket as a makeshift pillow.

It felt odd to have Dick follow him into the store. It was odd to have anyone accompany him at all, especially someone who clearly didn't want to be there.

"If you need anything, go ahead and get it," Wintergreen said. "I'll pay for it."

Dick stuck his hands deep in his pockets and slunk off. Wintergreen went on his merry way, picking up the usual medical supplies. He chatted with the cashier, commented that the kid wandering around the store was his grandson, the usual lies he had for these kinds of outings. Dick set a bottle of sleeping pills on the counter.

"Haven't been sleeping well?" Wintergreen asked.

"Do you even need to ask?"

Wintergreen bought it without further comment.

**-TT- **

Next on their list was the grocery store. There were a lot more people milling around—mostly middle-aged women and their young children, since it was a weekday.

"Is there anything I can do to help?" Dick asked.

Wintergreen handed him a list, and Dick understood immediately what he had to do. Wintergreen watched the kid rush off to another aisle.

As Wintergreen searched for the items on his list he occasionally saw Dick wander around, carrying a basket. He seemed a lot more animated than usual, and certainly a lot more energetic than he was this morning.

Watching him saunter through the aisles made Wintergreen pause, something akin to pity washing over him. Even a couple aisles over Wintergreen heard Dick chatting with someone. Sounded like he was making silly noises at one of the children in the strollers and talking with the mother. His ensuing laughter made Wintergreen smile.

In a few minutes they found each other again. Dick dumped the items into the cart. He wandered off to one of the tasting counters, where a woman was handing out samples.

"Thanks!" Dick took the sample and smiled at the woman.

As Dick turned and began to eat Wintergreen realized that it was tofu.

"You eat tofu?" Wintergreen asked. "If you've been vegetarian all along—"

"Oh no, I'm not vegetarian. BB is. He and Cy used to get into fights all the time about meat on the pizzas we ordered…" Dick trailed off. "Never mind. You don't want to hear about that. I'll wait on the other side of the register."

Wintergreen had thought more than once about helping Dick escape. Every time he came to the same conclusion: Slade wouldn't listen to him, and would continue to train Dick anyway. He'd just leave Wintergreen behind, and the boy wouldn't have anyone to protect him. Wintergreen valued Slade's friendship too much to risk it.

"Dick," Wintergreen said. That caught the kid's attention. Wintergreen usually never called him by his nickname. "Go pick something out. Any snack that you want."

Dick just looked at him. He knew Slade's rules about junk food. Why should he trust Wintergreen?

"That's okay," he said finally. "I don't need anything."

**-TT- **

"There's just one more thing we need to do," Wintergreen said after they had put the groceries in the car. "It won't take long."

As Dick followed him Wintergreen became aware that Slade wouldn't like this. They walked down the main street in downtown Jump, where the food carts were. Wintergreen stopped in front of a hot dog cart and turned to Dick.

"Are you hungry?"

The kid shrugged. Wintergreen turned back to the vendor and ordered one hot dog. As Wintergreen handed it to Dick he noticed that the kid looked uncomfortable.

"You didn't have lunch today. It's okay."

"I... Thanks."

He ate his hot dog without further comment, all the while looking up at the P.I.Z.Z.A place wistfully. From what Wintergreen understood it was a popular hangout for kids around here, especially the Titans. This was where the HIVE kids had first ambushed them.

"We need to go back soon," Wintergreen said, glancing at his watch. "You have a lesson in half an hour."

"Oh."

A sudden blast of air nearly knocked Wintergreen off his feet, though Dick moved quickly to steady him.

"Thanks," Wintergreen said, straightening.

Dick wasn't paying attention to him. His gaze was fixed above him. Wintergreen followed Dick's gaze.

Four Titans sped towards the P.I.Z.Z.A place, clearly a post-battle victory dinner. Despite their missing leader, they were laughing and joking about their battle with Plasmus. Perhaps it was strange for them to fly right past him without recognizing him.

_They don't know who he is, _Wintergreen thought suddenly. Dick never told the Titans his secret identity. That explained why he had been so bitter when Slade stripped him of his Robin identity.

"I think it's time to go," Wintergreen said. "Richard?"

Dick stared at the pizza place and didn't move. If he lingered Slade would be annoyed. Wintergreen eventually tugged at Dick's jacket. "We have to go."

"I know."

For a moment Wintergreen thought that Dick wouldn't leave, that he would shout something before leaving. For a moment Wintergreen thought that he would have to call in Slade for backup, but nothing happened. Dick dropped his trash in a nearby bin and walked sadly back to the car. Once they were both in the car Wintergreen turned to him, trying to appear friendly.

"I know we don't talk much," Wintergreen said. "But they're fine. You can see that now, right? You're helping them."

It was hard to console him. Wintergreen hardly knew the kid, and he knew that anything he said could make Dick feel more depressed.

"They're not happy. Not when they know I'm with Slade." Dick crossed his arms over his chest. "And I'm not fine with that."

Ah. Well, so much for trying to make him feel better. Wintergreen started the car and rolled out of the parking lot.

* * *

**A/N: Requests are very much appreciated! Review! **


	12. 6 July

**Disclaimer: I don't own anyone. **

**A/N: Hi! This will be my last oneshot before graduating college, and I have no idea what my schedule will be like in two weeks. Job-searching, probably. Also, I enjoyed the new Teen Titans Go! Cartoon. Yes, there were parts I disliked, but overall I enjoyed it and the Batman references in next week's episode seem pretty epic.**

* * *

**-July- **

**-DG- **

**Jump City, California **

**Titans Tower **

A flash of light woke Dick up from his nap.

"This is so going on Facebook!" Beast Boy exclaimed, holding up his phone for Cyborg to see.

"Hey, cut it out!" Dick sprang from the couch and tried to grab the phone.

He had been enjoying his nap on the couch, though now that he was awake he found that BB and Cy drew on his face with a sharpie and all over his arms.

"Haha, took you long enough to notice!" Beast Boy tossed the sharpie at him.

"You're hilarious," Dick drawled. "I'm going to wash this stuff off my face."

Cyborg and Beast Boy continued to laugh as he went to the bathroom.

"Watch out!" Dick called out. "If this is a prank war you're starting, then you're dead meat!"

They continued to laugh as he shut the doors and turned on the facet. His short visits turned into longer stays, though part of him felt antsy because he had obligations in Bludhaven. Staying in one place was hard. Considering the fact that he was going away to college in a few months, he had to learn how to do it.

The cold water on his face woke him up. There wasn't time to wash the sharpie off his face, but it would help a little bit. He turned off the facet and sighed. Someone knocked vigorously on the door.

"Come on, let's watch the fireworks!" BB exclaimed. "Cyborg's got hot dogs on the grill!"

Ah, right: Fourth of July fireworks. All five of them made their way to the rooftop, armed with blankets and chairs and coolers. Titans Tower had the best view of the city, and there was nothing like watching the fireworks from the rooftop. Second best spot was on top of the Ferris wheel on the pier.

"Do you remember when we had to fight Mad Mod last year?" Cyborg asked as everyone set up their chairs. "That was wild."

"Yes, it was most strange," Starfire said.

Dick put a hand to his temple and began to rub it, shutting his eyes tightly as the fireworks exploded above them.

"Dick?"

"I'm fine, Raven," he said, opening his eyes again. "I just haven't seen fireworks in a long time. Besides, I'm sorry that I missed fighting Mad Mod last year with you guys."

He leaned back and watched the fireworks, taking a long deep breath, the salty ocean air filling his lungs and calming him.

** -DG-**

** Jump City, California **

** Haunt **

He sat at a table in one of the other rooms, sniffling as he typed away on a computer. Not _his _laptop, mind you, but one of Slade's. Hard to practice hacking when he didn't know much about computer science. He worked on a line of code, mindful of the fact that Slade could remotely control his computer and was watching from the other side of the room as he worked on…whatever Slade did on the computer.

Dick was still recovering from a bad case of the flu. It seemed as though his body just shut down on its own and refused to do anything. He didn't know where he caught the flu, not only because it was the summer but because he hardly interacted with anyone these days. Dick thought that he might have caught it from Beast Boy while he was fighting the Titans the other day. Spending the past three days vomiting was awful. First time he got sick since he started working here, and not because Slade beat the crap out of him. Today the flu had devolved to a cold.

A sudden _boom _startled Dick.

"It's the fireworks," Slade said calmly. "No need to panic."

Dick glanced at the time on the laptop. Oh. The Fourth of July.

"Do you want to go out to the roof and watch? I'm sure they'll go on for another hour."

Dick shook his head and continued to work on the code. Last time he watched fireworks he was with Starfire. The Titans were probably out watching them right now. Besides, if he moved around too much he felt sick.

"You sure?" Slade asked. "Let's be honest: you've been flubbing the code for hours. Nothing you have here makes sense. Maybe it's time for a break."

Dick looked at the computer screen again. The numbers were swimming in front of his eyes. Still so sick that he didn't like looking at a screen for too long. Gave him a headache.

"So you don't want to go outside?"

"I still don't feel well, Sir." Dick erupted into a fit of coughing. "Can I go back to sleep?"

Slade just looked at him. "Very well."

After saving his work, wiping the keyboard down, and shutting the laptop, Dick stood up, really intending to go back to sleep. He coughed into his arm as he walked back down to his room.

He stopped halfway down the hallway, a sudden pain flaring in his chest. The distant sound of the fireworks awoke a memory, a happy memory of watching fireworks with Starfire. Just before the intergalactic police droid had tried to arrest her, of course.

A sudden sense of impending doom shook him. What was he doing here, playing crook? Why hadn't he escaped yet? Why hadn't his friends rescued him yet? Surely Slade would get bored with him soon. Maybe he had already killed the Titans and didn't tell him. Maybe Dick was doing this for nothing. Every single _pop _that drifted through the walls reminded him that he had _failed. _

The fireworks just wouldn't _stop. _

Starfire's laughter echoed in his mind on an endless loop. Had he really forgotten why he was here? To save his friends?He collapsed heavily to the floor.

He felt like throwing up again. For a few moments he couldn't breathe. A combination of muscus-filled lungs and a sudden, ominous sense of foreboding constricted his chest. Worse than a heartache, to be sure. He leaned against the wall and tried to control his breathing, though he was failing miserably How sad. Dick hadn't even made it halfway to his room.

"Dick?"

No. Nononononono—

"Are you still in the hallway? What are you doing? I thought I heard something."

Slade rounded the corner, though he didn't seem angry. At least not yet. Dick's mind worked frantically. What was wrong with him? Maybe the flu wasn't bothering him. Maybe it was something worse. Maybe it was some terminal disease and he was going to die in the next forty-eight hours. Maybe—

"Did you fall down?" Slade knelt down next to him. "Are you feeling worse?"

Dick's heart raced a thousand miles an hour.

_"SLADE!" _Dick hadn't expected his own voice to sound so desperate, or so pathetic. "Please, don't help me."

Another fit of intense coughing broke the awkward silence. He was trembling, though he didn't know why. Maybe Slade would finally see how pathetic he was and would let him go.

And those damn fireworks keep on going. On and on and on and on.

"Will," Slade called out, "get over here, please."

Slade was there. Right there. He would get mad, see how stupid he was, how weak he was. Wintergreen appeared moments later and placed a hand on Dick's forehead. A second later he placed two fingers against Dick's neck to feel his heartbeat.

"I thought he was better," Slade said. "His vomiting stopped yesterday and he no longer has a fever."

Wintergreen glanced at Slade for a moment before turning his attention back to Dick. "Just help him to his room and let him be."

This was stupid. He didn't want Slade to help him because he made everything worse. Despite his protests Slade dragged him to his feet and helped him walk the rest of the way.

It was stupid to feel this way. Nothing had happened today, aside from the fireworks. Hell, this was one of Slade's better days. No fights, no lectures, not even a sardonic comment about his obvious lack of enthusiasm. But maybe because it was just a normal day all of his troubles piled up to the tipping point today.

Slade let go of him and pushed him back into his room.

"Nothing's wrong with you," he said. "You do know that, don't you?"

Dick didn't answer. How could he, when he could barely breathe? Every breath hurt.

"It's just anxiety. You'll get over it." Slade began to shut the door. "You're done for the night."

* * *

**A/N: Review! **

**P.S: ****I actually have an extremely important announcement that I will not clutter my author's note with, but it addresses all inquiries about original work. Please visit my profile page.**


	13. 7: August

Disclaimer:

A/N: Sorry about the lack of updates! I've been going through some tough life situations since graduating college. My dog passed away, so I've been very sad, and I also have to study for the GRE. Yes, I decided to apply to graduate school, possibly to Film and TV school so I can write scripts for shows like TT. :D

* * *

August

**-TT- **

** Gotham City **

** Wayne Manor **

Packing was boring, but necessary. He moved around his room, trying to decide what he needed to bring for college. He opened his desk drawers to empty them out, but froze when he came across his scientific calculator.

_You signed up for a math class. You need it. _

Silly, how a calculator made him pause and reflect on bad things. He frowned as he put the calculator in a box. He signed up for a high-level math class, one that he would have to get permission from the professor to sign up for officially because he didn't have the paperwork telling the college that he was at a more advanced level. Part of him dreaded the questions, because how could he explain to a total stranger that his former captor taught him mathematics?

He sat down at his desk and thought dark thoughts.

**-TT- **

** Jump City, California **

** Haunt **

Dick made his way to the study. Of late, he had been given leave to wander around the Haunt, though only during certain hours of the day. Whenever Slade was gone, Dick spent most of his time doing homework. Sometimes he liked the distraction, but most of the time he felt resentful that Slade felt the need to give him busywork.

At the present moment, he felt irritated with himself. Forgetting anything around here could mean a sharp lecture or a slap to the face. Dick didn't forget anything when he could help it, but today he forgot his calculator back in the study.

As he walked, he began thinking of things to say to Slade. "Sorry for bothering you, Sir," "Apologies, but I was in such a hurry to leave your awful presence that I forgot my calculator." His lip curled at the thought, though his smirk quickly faded. Biting jokes were all fun and games until he said them out loud. He pushed open the door to the study and assumed a mild demeanor.

"Sorry, Sir, but I think I left my calculator…" Dick trailed off.

A middle-aged man sat tied to a chair, his expression terrified.

Free him. Don't free him. Dick stood, immobile, unsure what to do. Slade was indeed in the room, but it took him a moment to notice Dick, occupied as he was with their new guest. He seemed to have just finished tying the man to an office chair, the chair Dick usually occupied during his lessons.

"What's going on?" Dick asked.

"I brought my work home with me," Slade said. "I meant to move him to one of the holding cells, but I was in a bit of a hurry."

Dick just stared. Whenever Slade did go out on a contract Dick preferred not to know.

"What are you going to do to him?"

"What I do to him doesn't matter," Slade, his voice oddly more dispassionate than usual. "What you learn from this will be infinitely more valuable."

A lump formed in Dick's throat. "What do you mean by that?"

"Apprentice, go outside." Slade's voice hardened. "Now."

Maybe Slade had intended him to find the guy. Maybe not. Slade shoved Dick out the door. If Slade intended him to learn something, then why shove him out the door?

A sudden scream cut through the air and made Dick jump. Wintergreen rounded the corner, as though he had been waiting for Dick to come out.

"What's going on?" Dick's voice sounded much more afraid than he wanted it to.

"You'll know soon enough." Wintergreen grabbed his arm and led him away, continuing to speak softly. "It's an interrogation lesson, if you're curious."

Another scream ripped through the air. Oh. That explained a lot. Dick never took those lessons seriously because he didn't want to learn. Guess Slade was going to show him how it's done. Dick craned his neck back to look at the door again, knowing all the while that the man would be dead in a few hours.

**-DG- **

**Jump City, California **

**Titans Tower **

Dick broke out of his reverie as someone came into his room.

"Do you need any help packing?" Raven asked. "Or is this it?"

The Titans were here to see him off before he moved away to college. Funny, how he was going to college now.

"Orientation is tomorrow," Dick said, looking at his acceptance letter from Hudson University. "I have to move in and meet people."

Part of him was excited, but a larger part of him suddenly dreaded the change. It didn't hit him until today that he would be leaving everything he knew behind. Voluntarily, that was.

"What's wrong?" Raven asked.

"I'm just remembering where I was this time last year," Dick said. "It's weird. I don't know if I want to go."

"I think this is a great decision," Raven said. "A good decision."

"But what if you guys need me—"

"You need a long break, Dick. You need to meet new people, make new friends, learn how to put the past behind you. I know you care about us, but I know that we remind you of painful things. It's not your fault, and it's not ours."

"People will ask questions. I don't think I'm ready for that."

"Think about what you've gone through, Dick. The good, and especially the bad. Really think about it, and tell me you're not strong enough to be socially awkward with other college students." She was right, of course. Most of the time Raven was.

"I didn't realize how hard it would be—"

"Whoever said it would be easy?"

He looked at her. That sounded like something Alfred would say. Raven used her powers to pack up the rest of his things.

"You get to study what _you _want," Raven said. "Make the most of it. And don't worry, we'll come visit you. And when you get lonely or when there's trouble, you know who to call."

Raven gave him a hug. Hugs from Raven were a rare thing Dick had learned to treasure. He hugged her back, suddenly overwhelmed by her kindness.

"You wanted to go," Raven said. "You'll do great."

* * *

**A/N: **Just something I wanted to write after leaving college. It's been a great four years, and I'm sad that it's over. Considering updates: I'm trying very hard not to be unemployed, so I'll post sporadically until I have a schedule worked out, which may not happen for a long time. I'm also considering starting a kickstarter webcomic, so let me know if you're interested!

Review!


	14. Mentors

**Disclaimer: I don't own anyone. **

**A/N: Hi there! Just a quick oneshot. The ones after this will begin to move away from apprentice-themed things, as I'm trying to slowly ease away from apprentice angst into more fun oneshots. :)**

* * *

**-DG- **

Hudson University

New York City

Dick liked being in the big city, and he liked his classes so far. Two months in and he was still getting used to the college life.

He stood in the middle of the quad, checking his smart phone and wearing his sunglasses to keep people from recognizing him. It wasn't as bad out here as it was in Gotham, but all that scandal cause people to do a double-take.

Everything in college was nice enough, though sometimes he couldn't be sure if people were being extra nice to him on purpose. His new college friends always demanded to know why he didn't want to go out and drink and party with the rest of them on Friday nights. There was a mutual understanding that no one asked Dick about his disappearance, and that his sporadic irritability was attributed to that. It irritated him,

The end of the month would mark one year since he had escaped Slade. He managed to work through his major depression the past year, just in time to go back to school. While that meant he could go about his business without breaking down, it didn't mean that it went away completely. There were times when he felt suffocated around campus, so completely alone even when he was surrounded by laughing students worried about their next exam.

His cell phone rang.

"What's up, Gar?" Dick asked.

"Hey, when you are free? We found someone we think would be a great addition to the team, and you should really meet her! She's _rocking!" _

A new Titan? With Dick being away at school, he had discussed adding someone to the team to keep Jump City secure. But he had always assumed that it would be someone he knew, like Aqualad or Speedy.

"What's her name?"

"Terra! And she's exactly like her name!" Beast Boy sounded so excited. More excited than usual. "Can you come over this weekend? You should meet her. It'd be weird for us to accept a new Titan without your say-so."

There was something going on here this weekend. Some sort of dorm thing that Dick had agreed to do last week. Well, it wouldn't be the first time he ditched something. By now most people expected him to ditch, and many of them attributed it to his depression. Didn't matter if it was true or not, but Dick hated it when people said that.

"I'm sure I can. I'll just have to clear my schedule first and catch a flight. Probably tonight. I'll call ya later to let you know."

He hung up and smiled a little.

"Hey Dick!" One of his professors was walking towards him, his discrete mathematics professor Dr. Dan Smith. "Hey, you missed class again this morning." Dr. Smith smiled. "This isn't a lower-division class you can ditch once a week."

"Uh, sorry about that," Dick said, rubbing the back of his neck nervously. "It won't happen again."

What had he been doing? Oh yeah, _sleeping. _

"No hard feelings. But if you have time now, I'd like to talk about it. You want to walk with me?"

No reason to say no, though Dick felt uncomfortable. "Sure."

They walked along the quad towards the mathematics building. Dang, Dick must have caught Dr. Smith's path from the cafeteria to his office. He should have known better if he didn't want to be caught ditching, though Dick didn't feel any guilt.

"Truth be told, I was very surprised when you showed up," the professor said. "A first-year in my upper-division class? That hardly happens except for special cases, Dick, and only when they have the proper recommendations. You have nothing. I looked at your transcripts, and there is nothing there to account for your skills aside from the general high school math courses. You didn't take any community college classes, online or otherwise during your summer?"

Dick suddenly felt very, very nervous. He knew that the professor meant everything in good faith, and that he was curious and wanted the best for his student, but Dick now regretted his decision to enroll in the class.

"No. Why do you care?"

The words sounded harsher than he meant them to. Disrespectful. Slightly taken aback, Dr. Smith stopped walking to look at Dick.

"Look," Dick said quickly, "I didn't cheat. I..."

How could he explain this?

"Look," Dick said again, "I didn't enroll in any community college classes because I just couldn't do it. I've had a very difficult year, and I had to fill the void with something to get my mind off of things."

"I wouldn't have done math problems to get my mind off things, and it's my field."

Dr. Smith studied him, and Dick knew that his lies fell on deaf ears. And why would his lies have worked anyway? How long had Smith been here? At least ten years? He had heard every excuse in the book.

"Dr. Smith," Dick said, taking off his sunglasses to look at his professor, "that's a lie, I know. It's complicated, and maybe I shouldn't have signed up for your class, but...yeah, maybe you should know. While I was...away...I found that I had to make myself...useful. Not just a uh... hostage."

Oh boy. Dick hadn't planned on explaining his behavior to any of his professors. He didn't want them to treat him extra nice because bad things happened to him. It didn't matter because he had already been through the worst teacher in the world, and nothing these profs could throw at him would come close to the way Slade had treated him.

"I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable." Dr. Smith looked concerned. "Are you sure you should be in this class, if it bothers you that much?"

"Don't worry about me, Dr. Smith." Dick put his sunglasses back on again. "It's my business. Just know that I had to learn some applicable mathematics real quick to keep those people believing that I could help them, and I didn't like what I did. Math isn't my favorite subject anymore because of that. I signed up for your class for reasons I'd rather keep to myself."

It was as close to the truth as he could get. It was the lie he came up with two months ago just in case one of the faculty asked him why he was so skilled in certain areas. Maybe now Dr. Smith regretted asking his new favorite first-year student how he was such a natural mathalete.

"I'm sorry to hear that." Dr. Smith paused. "You do know that the school provides three free counseling sessions...or if you need anyone to talk to you could always talk to one of your professors. Some of us do listen, even if this is a big school."

Hm, so that was the real reason why Dr. Smith wanted to talk to him. Professors looking for students to mentor wasn't a surprising thing at a university, but all of Dick's past experiences told him to eschew all mentoring opportunities. Dick wasn't looking for any mentors at the moment. He supposed that he wouldn't be looking for a mentor for a very long time, not after his awful experience with his last one.

"I've had some bad teachers in the recent past, so forgive me if I say no thank you." Dick looked at his phone. "Excuse me, Dr. Smith. My next class is in five minutes."


	15. Father's Day

**Disclaimer: I don't own anyone. **

**A/N: Hi all! Here's something for Father's Day!**

* * *

** -BW- **

** Gotham City **

** Wayne Manor **

"What are you up to today, Bruce?" Dick asked.

"I'm cooking for Alfred," Bruce said. "He's not the one who should be cooking today."

"Oh brother. It's going to be a disaster, isn't it?"

"Hopefully not. But he shouldn't cook on father's day." Bruce took out a saucepan. "Want to help?"

"Sure. Someone's gotta mess up the risotto."

Bruce opened up a bottle of Cabernet Sauvignon and took out a wine glass.

"Hey, you drinking on the job?" Dick asked. "Keep it classy, Bruce."

"I'm marinating the chicken," Bruce replied, "but I don't need the whole bottle. It's an ancient technique used by the French. You want some?"

"Nah, nah I'm fine."

Dick averted his eyes and kept stirring the risotto. Oh, right. Maybe Bruce shouldn't have reminded him of his brush with alcoholism. Besides, Alfred would have killed him if he heard Bruce was offering Dick a glass.

Speaking of the man, Alfred strode into the kitchen with his hands on his hips. "Perhaps I shouldn't have allowed you two in my kitchen."

"Relax, Alfred," Bruce said, pouring a glass of wine. "Here, have a glass and watch Downtown Abby. We'll do the work."

Alfred muttered something as he walked out of the kitchen. Dick held open the door for him. "I already set the table, so don't even think about it!"

The two of them laughed as soon as Alfred walked away. Minutes passed in silence, though it was not awkward because they were busy cooking.

Most of what needed to be done was cooked, and all they had to do was wait for the roast chicken to finish cooking. They had cleaned as they cooked, so there weren't any dishes to do. Still, they needed to stay here to make sure nothing burned. Given their cooking skills, disaster was always around the corner. Once he was finished with the side dishes, Dick leaned against the counter and stared at the wall.

Neither of them spoke. Bruce and Dick hadn't done anything together in a long while. Yes, they spent time together, but usually within a group. Whenever they did spend alone with each other, it often felt strained. Like now.

"Are you all right?" Bruce asked.

Sometimes Bruce couldn't read Dick's moods. It was frustrating when Bruce couldn't tell if Dick felt sad or unhappy, or just complacent, because then he couldn't help him. Dick always tried not to be sad around people just to make everyone else happy for him. But of late, Dick seemed to be enjoying company more and started joking around again.

"It's just nice being here," Dick said. "I'm enjoying the moment." He glanced down at his stained shirt. "Before Alfred comes back and tells me to change."

Bruce looked down at his own shirt. Wow, how did Alfred manage to keep his suits clean while he cooked? Maybe he should have worn an apron.

After turning off the stove and putting a lid on the risotto, Dick sighed and turned back around to face Bruce.

"Hey, happy father's day, Bruce." Dick hugged him. Hugs from him were rare these days. "I didn't know what to get you, so I just got you a card." Dick pulled out an envelope and handed it to Bruce. "I just want to let you know that you've been great."

It was a card bought from a drugstore, one that made noise when Bruce opened it. There was writing inside.

"You didn't have to get me anything, Dick."

"Of course I did." Dick beamed. "I got one for Alfred too. The card sings the pop song he hates so much."

Dick scanned the counter for any leftover dirty dishes before heading out the door. "I'm going to change my shirt before dinner. See you there!"

Curious, Bruce opened the card again.

_Bruce, _

_ Thank you for being here for me._

* * *

**A/N: There will be other Father's Day fandom-things on tumblr, including some fun fanart! I am planning another part, which I hope I will have done by tomorrow, and it may or may not be posted here. We'll see! Check my tumblr for details! **


	16. Terra

**Disclaimer: I own no one. **

**A/N: For those who have heard a thing or two about me writing a Danny Phantom/ Supernatural crossover fic: yes, it is happening, but I'm still in the outlining stage. I'm gonna take that fic slowly, as I still have to complete my Star Wars fic (it's being written!) and I'm still unemployed. Looking for a job is my top priority right now, not fanfic. But I want to make sure I can update the DP/SPN crossover fic once a week. **

**Also, this oneshot was written for requests about Terra on this timeline!**

* * *

** -DG- **

** Jump City, California **

** Titans Tower **

The afternoon Dick arrived in Jump City the other Titans wanted Terra to run through the obstacle course. Just to see what she could do. Dick had to admit that her powers were impressive. Rough, yeah, but still impressive.

He liked her well enough, though there was something off about her, though Dick could not put his finger on it. Some part of him didn't trust her, though he eventually concluded that he didn't really trust anyone these days. Trust issues and all that jazz. With Terra in the Tower, he could not walk around as Dick Grayson, but was forced to be Nightwing at all times. Terra still wasn't a Titan, and when she finally gained their trust would he reveal his secret identity.

_Not like it matters anymore. _

Dick, still in his Nightwing uniform, made his way to the kitchen in the middle of the night. Titans Tower still made him feel uneasy, but things were mostly okay now.

A sudden noise startled him. Dick paused and turned towards the common room. Terra sat straight up, her headphones sliding off her head as she stared at him.

Oops. Right. She was sleeping on the couch.

"Light sleeper, eh?" Dick asked, pulling a glass out of the cupboard. "Sorry. Didn't mean to wake you."

Though Dick had met her, he hadn't talked to her in private yet. He felt awkward around her, this kid who appeared from nowhere, and left the socialization to Beast Boy. Terra seemed to make him happy, and Dick liked to see BB happy. God knows the Titans need a reason to be happy these days.

Dick poured himself a glass of water and opened the fridge to search for leftovers. Now that she was awake he wasn't going to bother being quiet. Hmm. Something sweet ought to do the trick. Dick opened the freezer drawer and pulled out a carton of ice cream, which was almost gone. Might as well eat the rest from the carton. It was so nice to indulge himself nowadays.

"Nightwing, you've done terrible things, haven't you?"

"Hmmawhat?" Dick's words slurred together, courtesy of the chocolate chip cookie dough currently occupying his mouth.

An old rage started to boil inside him once he registered her words, but he shoved another bite of ice cream in his mouth to stop himself from snapping back at her. Terra meant no harm. And there was something in her voice that made his anger deflate, a tone he could never mistake for anything else: fear.

"I don't like to talk about it," Dick said quietly. "But yeah, I did."

"And you're still a hero."

"I like to think so."

His suspicions grew, though he knew that he needed to act with grace. She was only, what, fourteen? Fifteen? It wasn't like she had killed anyone or anything.

_Don't ask questions, _Dick thought. _You have no right to judge. Not when you've been a criminal yourself. _

In an instant, like a clever Sherlock Holmes, Dick saw Terra's story. He heard it in her voice, saw it in her face. All the hurt and the guilt and the loneliness he had learned to bury within himself. She had done something bad and wanted to know his story, wanted reassurance that someone would not judge. Wanted to know how he had handled the judgement, the media's scrunity, all of the byproducts of being a fallen hero.

Strange, how he could read people so quickly. Dick moved towards the couch and smiled at her.

"If you doubt that you can be a hero, then maybe you're just the person we need. Ego almost killed me, and it's good to know when you need help. There's nothing wrong with a little self-doubt, but don't let it eat you up."

Terra searched his masked face. "So you don't hate yourself anymore for working with Deathstroke?"

He considered his answer. "He taught me a lot of valuable lessons. It's just part of me now and I've learned to live with that."

Dick finished off the box. Time for bed. He wasn't staying in Jump City long and had to go back to school tomorrow. He stood up and looked at Terra again.

She had no family, no home. The Titans were a good family, and they would give her what she needed.

"I think you'd be a great addition to the team, Terra. The Titans could really use you. Take care of them for me when I'm gone, all right?"

* * *

**A/N: I have an idea how I want to weave the Judas Contract storyline into this timeline! It won't be too detailed and they will still be oneshots, but I'm looking forward to writing them! **


	17. Trust

**Disclaimer: I don't own anyone. **

**A/N: I almost didn't post this because, even with my standards, I found this oneshot to be very sad. I promise that I will write something happier for next time, because I intend to write happy oneshots, and I suspect that this will be the last incredibly angsty oneshot I'll be posting for a while.**

* * *

**-DG- **

**New York City, New York**

He felt oddly free as he walked along the side of the road, swinging his arms as he whistled some pop song he had heard at the party.

It had taken some persuasion by his college friends to get out and party. An illegal party, with underage drinking, but Dick didn't care. He had, however, taken one too many shots. Miscalculated was the word he wanted to use. He really didn't know his limit, as most college freshmen don't, and his equally ignorant friends encouraged him. Said it would loosen him up. Dick didn't know why he believed them, but maybe he had hoped that something would help.

He kicked at a dirt clod. Ultimately everything was his fault, and not his friends, so he supposed that he couldn't be mad at them. If he really wanted to refuse the shots he was more than capable of stopping them.

"Dick?"

Was that Dr. Smith? Why was he walking around at night? The professor was walking his dog, who whined when the professor stopped walking. Bewildered, Dick stopped kicking dirt clods to stare at his professor.

"Fancy seeing you here," Dick said finally. "How are you, Dr. Smith?"

"Dick, are you _drunk?"_

"Dr. Smith, are you walking your dog at night?"

"It's too hot to walk him in the afternoon. Besides, you didn't answer my question. Though I suppose that I don't need an answer now." Dr. Smith looked at Dick with a concerned expression on his face. "Did you _walk _all the way to faculty housing from campus?"

"I've done worse."

This was worse than the few times he had become inebriated before. No one had been there to stop him. In fact, his friends had encouraged him, not knowing what kind of a storm would arise once he had a few shots. Dick had to leave before he said something he regretted, before he allowed the alcohol to let him say nasty things. Or before he punched somebody in the face.

"I'm almost home," the professor said. "You can stay there while I call campus security."

"I can walk."

Dick didn't feel like he could trust anyone at Hudson. No one knew the truth, and sometimes the Titans weren't there to talk when he needed someone to talk to. Dr. Smith grabbed his arm.

"You're not walking back to campus like this."

Dick didn't move and said nothing. Instead, he walked back to his professor's house, protesting all the while.

"You really don't have to do this," Dick said. "I can get home. I've gotten myself in _so much worse." _

Dr. Smith unlocked his front door and led Dick inside his home. The dog bounded forward happily towards his water bowl once the professor took off his leash.

"Sit down. I'll get you some water," Dr. Smith said. "Just…stay there."

As Dick waited obediently, he allowed his thoughts to wander.

His grades were slipping. At first it had been easy to dedicate his time to academics, but as the semester wore on he found himself distracted. Lonely. Struck at sudden times with guilt and sadness that no one here could help him with. And it was easy to convince himself that he was working too hard, that he needed to give himself more time to enjoy life, so he skipped class to go on long introspective walks.

By the time Dr. Smith came back with a glass of water, Dick already felt sorry for himself.

"You probably think I'm pathetic."

"This happens to the best of us," Dr. Smith said. "You'll learn your limits."

"That's not what I meant."

All of his accomplishments meant nothing in light of all of his failures. He had saved Jump City so many times, but those achievements seemed inconsequential.

"People died when I was away, and I couldn't do anything about it," Dick said. "The guy responsible isn't in jail. I let him escape. He could hurt someone again. I'm scared that he will."

Dr. Smith paused. He turned slowly, unsure how to respond. "I'm sure he'll be caught soon enough."

Dick finished his glass of water, disinterested in what Dr. Smith had to say about Slade. The next morning was going to be awful. Did he have class in the morning? He couldn't remember.

"Pathetic thing to do...let him go..."

"I don't think you're pathetic, Dick," Dr. Smith said. "You obviously have a lot of issues to deal with, and I'm not sure I'm the person you should talk to about it. What about Bruce Wayne?"

"I can't trust him with everything. It makes him sad."

"What about your friends? Here? At school?"

"They don't understand. I don't think they want to listen to me. I'm just one big mess and they know it." True, Dick didn't trust his college friends, though he wished he could. "I saw my parents murdered when I was eight. Then all that drama happened last year and—"

He stopped himself. A pounding headache hurt him, pulsating in painful waves. Yet another thing that was his fault.

"You are bright, Dick." Dr. Smith took a deep breath. "It's okay if you want to drop out for a semester. There's nothing wrong with that if you need more time. Don't be ashamed if you want to."

No, Dick couldn't drop out of school. That meant that Slade would win, and Dick couldn't allow that to happen. In Bludhaven Dick had asserted himself, proven to Slade that his training was as complete as it could get, and that he was destined for bigger and better things. But things hadn't gotten better since then, even with Slade gone from his life.

"I need to get my degree. I need to do something."

It was the path Dick had chosen for himself. He wanted to live a normal life, and going to college was a normal thing. One of the many things he had daydreamed about when he didn't have his freedom. But he wasn't happy here. Maybe he should have waited an entire year before even thinking about college. Maybe he should have gone somewhere else.

"What do you want to do?" Dr. Smith asked.

"I don't know!"

"Then why did you take my classes?"

"To prove him wrong," Dick said. "To make him believe that I'm doing better, that I can't be beat, that I can go on."

Even in his intoxicated state, Dick didn't dare specify who. A challenge was all he ever wanted, but was a challenge the thing he needed?

"Who?"

Dick burst into tears. There were times he felt he couldn't cry, not in front of all these strangers who couldn't do anything for him, who couldn't even begin to possibly understand why he felt the way he did. This was why he was pathetic. All that time he had spent trying to make himself better just didn't work. Every once in a while he cracked—which was just enough to disrupt his daily life.

"Oh hey, whoa, uh…" Dr. Smith looked at him awkwardly before handing him a box of tissue. "Are you all right?"

"Are you going to get me in trouble for underage drinking?"

"No. Somehow I think that's the least of your problems." Dr. Smith shook his head. "But if you do have a drinking problem, then you need to do something about it. Just this once."

In his intoxicated state Dick couldn't get over how _nice _Dr. Smith was being about all this. He didn't question the drinking, didn't silently judge him like he felt so many others do.

It was in this moment that Dick realized he really didn't know how to talk to civilian adults. That he had a serious problem that couldn't be dealt with without compromising his secret identity, and that he needed to find a way to talk to people who were not involved in the superhero community.

"I'm sorry, professor," Dick said, "you don't need to deal with me right now. I'll leave. I ruined your night I'm sorry—"

"Don't be sorry." Dr. Smith looked worried, and also sad. Dick didn't want him to feel that way. He didn't want anyone else to feel sorry for him, because that wouldn't help anyone with anything. "Dick, I always try to get to know my students better. To not be the professor who lets his TA's do all the work. I'm sorry you feel this way, and I'm sorry you can't trust me because of what's happened in your past."

Who could Dick trust? The Titans? Alfred? Bruce sometimes, when he wasn't acting like an ass.

"I'm sorry this happened," Dick said. "I'll be out of your way."

Dr. Smith held up a hand when Dick tried to stand.

"You have to learn how to trust again, Dick." Dr. Smith shrugged. "Maybe I don't have any right to say anything. I don't know what you went through, and I don't know who broke your ability to trust people. But you can trust me."

"It's not you I'm worried about," Dick said. "There are people out there who don't give a shit about people I care about."

He never really swore until he came back from the apprenticeship. He didn't really drink either. Not until now. Oh how things changed.

"Your friends were hurt too, then," Dr. Smith said quietly.

"Yeah. I don't…I don't want you to treat me any differently than your other students," Dick said. "Promise me that. Please."

"I won't, Dick." Dr. Smith picked up his car keys and sighed. "I'll drop you off at your dorm. You shouldn't have walked away from that party. You could have gotten hurt."

Dick stood up, swaying slightly. He laughed uneasily, contemplating telling Smith the truth. "Thanks. Really."

"No problem. Car's in the driveway, let's get you home."


	18. Apprentices

**Disclaimer: I don't own anyone. **

**A/N: I've been wanting to write this for a long time. Again, I've been busy attempting to find a full time job (I've been chasing job leads all summer) and I'm working hard to produce original content to share with you all. **

**WARNING: This oneshot has more profanity than is usually present in my fics.**

* * *

**"Darkness is a harsh term, don't you think?  
And yet it dominates the things I see."  
**

**-"Roll Away Your Stone," Mumford and Sons **

* * *

**-DG- **

**New York City, New York **

Dick used his cell phone, rather than the Titans Communicator, to make this phone call. To Dick's mind, he did not want to compromise the Titans' new communication security system, and it didn't make any difference if Slade traced his personal cell. Dick would just get another one after this conversation was over.

He stood outside of his dorm room, for it was late and he didn't want to wake anyone up. Well, this was college, and he'd most likely be disturbing those working on homework or studying still. He couldn't believe that he was making this phone call, and stopped himself once or twice, but then he made himself punch in the numbers. He had to give it a shot, even if he knew that it would end badly.

After one ring, Slade picked up.

"Calling a little past your bedtime, aren't you, Dick?" Slade asked. "What do you want?"

Just hearing his voice again was enough to make Dick clench his fists in anger. Since their fight in Blüdhaven last Halloween, Dick hadn't had the opportunity to talk with Slade much. Not like Dick wanted to, anyway.

"Didn't I tell you, Slade, didn't I say that I _would _come back for you if you did this again?"

"What are you talking about?"

"Terra."

"Ah." Slade paused, as though he was surprised that Dick had called him for something as trivial as this. "_She _came to _me _for help with her powers."

"So that's it, then?" Dick shouted. "After everything that happened with me, you just went after someone more vulnerable—"

"Like you weren't vulnerable, Dick."

"You're not listening to me. You never listen to me. You keep putting goddamn words in my mouth, Slade, and it's not about me. It's about Terra. It's about how I said that I wouldn't tolerate you going after anyone else again. I don't care if she asked for your help, because she doesn't need your help. She needs friends, and she needs people who will care about her, and she won't get that from you. You're going to use her like a tool, just like you used me, and I can't let you do that—"

"Have you been drinking again?" Slade asked calmly.

_"Shut up you piece of shit!" _

Dick shouted a stream of obscenities. They flowed out of him like rushing water, and he was so full of rage that he did not care. He was not even aware of what he was saying, or how he would have never dared to say such things to Slade at this moment a year before. At that moment, he didn't even care if someone overheard him. Slade became quiet on the other end.

"Listen to me, you scumbag," Dick snapped, slowing down to enunciate his next words carefully, "I tried talking to Terra, but she doesn't know _anything. _You're using her, and she doesn't know it."

"Terra has better control of her powers. She did improve."

"So did I. But she didn't need you to do that. You're going to let her go, without any strings attached, or I will put your single, lonely, sorry ass in jail for the rest of your life."

Dick had promised Beast Boy that he would give Terra one last chance. In fact, Dick had defended Terra along with Beast Boy against the Titans, even though his initial reaction had been to condemn Terra for her decision.

Ultimately, everything was Slade's fault. Anyone could make the same argument that Dick had decided that join Slade of his own free will, and that it was his fault he didn't just leave. Because nothing in life was ever that simple, and Dick knew that this was a much more dangerous situation for Terra than it had been for him. Somehow, Slade would find a way to control her powers. And if she could not defend herself with her powers, then how would she be able to defend herself at all?

No matter how many times Dick had tried to contact Terra, he always managed to get Slade instead. And those few times the Titans had encountered Terra in battle, Dick could never get her alone to talk. Slade made sure of that. It frustrated him that though he knew most of Slade's tricks, he could not find a way past them without someone getting hurt.

Terra knew that Dick used to work for Slade, but she wouldn't listen to him. And if Dick couldn't make her listen to him, or at least explain herself if she was caught in a similar situation, then he would have to take her down just like any other criminal.

"No one deserves to experience what I did," Dick said. "I thought you were done with apprentices. I thought I proved to you that I learned all that I could."

"You were never my successor, Dick. You took the skills I taught you and left for Blüdhaven."

"Terra won't be your successor either. Don't lie to yourself. I'll do anything to get her away from—"

"What are you going to do, offer an exchange?" Slade asked pleasantly. "Yourself for the girl? Terra's useful. More useful than you were. For once, I think I'll keep the status quo, so don't try it."

Terra had willingly given Slade information about the Titans. Personal information that Slade had never been able to wheedle out of Dick. Damaging information about their weaknesses, their personal history, everything Slade would need to eliminate them and their loved ones with more force than before.

_She betrayed you. _

"Oh? Nothing to say? Sad that, for once, not everything is about you, Dick?"

"You're missing the point entirely. And I never said—"

"Slade?" Terra's voice. "Who are you talking to?"

_"Get out, Terra!" _Dick shouted. _"DON'T TRUST SLADE! GET OUT WHILE YOU STILL CAN! GET—" _

Slade hung up.

Soundless insults escaped Dick's mouth. He thought twice about calling back, but then thought better of it.

Dick's fingers slipped as he punched in Wintergreen's cell phone number. This was his last resort. The only person who could possibly listen to him, who could possibly be in a position to help Terra escape before it was too late.

No one answered. A beep indicated that the messaging machine was on, and a voice told Dick that he should leave a message with his name and number.

"Answer your phone, Wintergreen. I know you're there, and I know it's on." Dick couldn't believe that he was doing this, that he was trying to contact the men who had held him captive for almost a year. It was pathetic, a word he was so fond of using nowadays. But he would do it for Terra. He would do it so that no one else would get hurt. He had to try. But as he spoke, the more his anger and frustration grew, and his voice rose in a crescendo of uncontrollable rage. "Answer the fucking phone, Wintergreen. You know it's me, because why wouldn't you? You helped keep me prisoner for nine goddamn months. The least you can do is answer the phone, or I'll make sure you join Slade in the slammer. You know what, _fine! _Don't answer the phone! Not like you care. If you didn't care enough about me, then why should you care about her?"

And with that voice message done, Dick threw his phone against a tree. The thing fell into pieces, with no hope of recovery even if Dick wanted to salvage the phone.

He leaned forward until he was nearly kneeling on the ground, his hands over his face, disgusted with himself entirely. Disgusted with the fact that he had somehow become a different man in such a short amount of time, someone who could no longer express himself in anything but profanity and bouts of acute alcoholism. A mere shadow of the person he used to be. If he couldn't help himself, then how could he possibly help her?

An overwhelming wave of empathy overcame him. He could still feel anger over her betrayal, but he could not be angry at her for long. She was still a child. Dick knew what would happen once Terra began to fail Slade, and he could not wish that life for anyone else. Not even the traitor.

Someone approached him.

"Dick?" It was Dick's roommate, Al. "I heard you shouting. Are you ok?"

"I'm going to Jump," Dick said, brushing past Al.

"Right now? Don't you have your discrete mathematics midterm tomorrow?"

Dick looked at him. He liked Alvin, more than he thought he would, and he had tolerated Dick when, perhaps, he shouldn't have. But, at the moment, he resented Al for interrupting him.

"It's an emergency."

Al searched his face, a hint of fear creeping onto his own. "You were talking to_ him_, weren't you?"

Having lived with Dick for three months, Alvin knew more about Dick's past than any of his other college friends. Although Dick never said names, his occasionally violent and vocal nightmares had frightened Alvin in the middle of the night, and he knew that the man responsible for Dick's suffering was not in jail just from listening. Dick said nothing, although he knew that his silence spoke volumes.

"Let the police handle it," Al said quickly. Then, in a lower voice, so low that Dick almost didn't hear. "Can't believe you talked to him on the fucking phone."

"Yeah," Dick said, "I can't believe it either."

Bruce would understand why he had to leave. So long as he made it clear that he would be fighting Slade with the Titans, then Bruce would have no objection. Midterms be damned.

"It's bad, then?"

"Yeah. I need to go now."

Dick didn't even pack his bags. The Titans needed him, Terra needed their help, and he wouldn't stop for anything. No more hiding out on campus. For the first time he had returned, he felt as though his friends really needed him. It was a shame that they needed him for this, because they had all thought that Terra was their friend.

Some part of him hoped that, in the end, she still would be.

* * *

**A/N: I've always imagined that the Judas Contract/season 2 storyline would really hit Dick hard on this AU timeline. I really wanted to convey his frustration and anger, and how learning about Terra's apprenticeship would make him angry. When watching season 2 I wanted to see more of Robin's anger leftover from season 1, which we only got a hint of in the Aftershock episodes. I know it's not characteristic of me to leave in strong profanity (usually I edit them out or tone them down during revisions), but in the end I felt that it was the best way to convey what I wanted to portray. **


	19. Battle Wounds

**Disclaimer:**** I don't own Teen Titans. **

**A/N:**** Well, I should be doing some last minute studying for the GRE, but I am getting lazy. Oh well. I wrote this to practice writing romance, so forgive me if it's cheesy.**

* * *

** -DG-**

** Jump City**

** Titans Tower**

Dick wasn't sleeping well. For the first time in months, insomnia had hit him again. He felt that the Tower could be attacked at any moment, despite the extra securities he made sure were put into place. Once he arrived in Jump City, he immediately collapsed into bed. The last few weeks had been so mentally exhausting. He hoped he would still have the strength to deal with the crisis in Jump, and finish it before finals.

Someone knocked on his window. Dick sat up quickly, though relaxed when he saw who it was. "Star?"

"Do you wish me to leave?"

"No, no, it's okay. You just startled me."

Starfire came into the room, shut the window behind her, and floated over to him. Glancing down, he realized that he was only dressed in pajama pants. Well, wasn't like he was expected visitors at two in the morning.

"Are you the annoyed?" she asked. "Shall I depart?"

"It's seriously fine, Star. Not like I was sleeping anyway." He looked at her. "But why are you here? Why did you come through the window? You could have knocked."

"I did not wish to wake the others, and I wanted to be outside for a moment. I know you feel anxious. I hope to make you feel happy."

"I'm happy just being here with you."

Who was he kidding, she could see right through his lie. He was worried about so many things. Terra, mostly.

His face heated up as she hovered over him, her long hair tickling his face. Lifting up a hand, the back of her fingers caressed his cheek. Though he suddenly felt uncomfortable, he did nothing to stop her. These days Dick hardly let anyone physically close to him, though this was not…unwelcome.

Star had kissed him once before, but he had pushed her away, despite his desire to be with people. A lonely kind of pain had permeated every atom of his being, making him unable to do anything more than hug his close friends, and even then only for a few moments. Simple gestures—such as a friendly clasp on the shoulder—made him feel anxious when the situation did not call for it. Star was always trying to coax those feelings away.

"You are worried," she said simply. "Please, will you allow me to help?"

"Help how?"

Silly boy. Everything about this encounter—the window, the middle of the night, her closeness—betrayed her true intentions. It took him a few moments to understand, and when he did he felt stupid.

"Oh," he said dumbly, unsure what to say.

Their lips met, and they fell back onto the bed. Her bare midriff brushed against his stomach. Starfire lowered her head and kissed him, her kiss long and deep. His hands crept underneath her shirt, up to her bra strap, and suddenly he felt confident.

His movements were terribly awkward. The jerky movements of a teenager new to this kind of thing, a teenager who didn't know anything about manners of love. Maybe he didn't know anything about love, but all he knew was that he wanted her so badly, but he didn't know how to articulate that desire into words. He wanted this physical closeness, he wanted to be able to trust Star completely, surrender himself to her. The longer they kissed, the more natural his movements became, and the more aware they both became of their own desires.

_She won't say no, _he thought suddenly.

But would that be fair?

They stared awkwardly at each other, his hands resting on her hips. Some part of him said that he shouldn't do this, and that he shouldn't even be _close _to her because he said that he wasn't ready for a relationship at _all. _

"Remember when we first met?" Dick asked. "When you kissed me to learn English?"

"Yes," Star replied. "Apologies. I did not know you then."

"It's fine. I've been through worse."

She trailed her fingers down his scarred chest. Goosebumps rose on his bare skin. She stopped to study a particularly nasty scar. "I gave you this. This is a starbolt burn."

"Your sister—"

"No, this was me. I remember now."

Dick rolled to his side and scrunched his shoulders. "Don't worry about me. It doesn't hurt anymore."

Starfire snuggled up to him. He felt her warm breath on the nape of his neck. As her arm snaked around his waist, he grabbed her wrist gently. His thumb brushed against her wrist, her pulse thumping softly through her skin.

It wasn't often he saw her slender wrists without the Tamaranean wrist-guards. They felt delicate, fragile in his callused hands. Bumpy scar tissue marred her wrists.

"From the Gordanians?" he asked.

"That was a long time ago."

Dick kissed her wrist and enveloped her hand in his.

"Are you happy, Dick?" Star asked.

"Happy?" His brow furrowed. "You being here helps, but I'm worried about a lot of things still."

"If this is about Terra—"  
"That's why I came back to Jump."

Star rubbed his shoulder gently to loosen the knots. "It is not your fault, Dick."

He sat up, no longer wanting her attention, but now anxious about the situation with Terra again.

"If she dies, then it's my fault—"

"Slade would not kill her, as he did not kill you."

Dick looked at her. Did she really just say that? Starfire never mentioned Slade to him when she could help it.

"This is different. I don't know how to explain it, but he'll kill her. I made a bad decision, Star. He's hurting people again. He could hurt all of us again."

She pinned his wrists down, her thighs tightening around his waist. If she were not his friend, then he would have been terrified. Lying there, in the semi-dark, he became aware of many things. The way her skirt hitched up her thighs, how warm she was, how much he liked her weight on him.

"Believe me, Dick," she said softly, her lips tickling his ear, "if he comes near you again, I will_ kill_ him."

He shivered in the dark. She sounded so certain, and he could not doubt her intentions. Star released his wrists. Dick wrapped his arms around her and hugged, wanting nothing more than her closeness. As they lay there, wrapped in each other's arms, he felt safer. For, at least for that night, he would not face his nightmares alone.


	20. A Death in the Family

**Disclaimer: I don't own Teen Titans. **

**A/N: Most of what I have to say is at the bottom.**

* * *

**-DG- **

**Jump City, California **

**Titans Tower **

An eerie silence filled Titans Tower. An unnatural silence that permeated the normally jovial Tower. It had been wrecked earlier when Terra allowed the Sladebots into the Tower, and the Titans had been so busy that they hadn't come back until now.

Dick sat on the stairs and stared at the torn carpet. The others were scattered throughout the Tower. Mere hours before they witnessed Terra turning on Slade and killing him before their very eyes. Dick still couldn't quite believe it.

"It wasn't supposed to end this way," Dick said, leaning forward and trying to contain his tears.

Terra's death should not have affected him this way. They hadn't been close. There was no need for him to feel this immense sadness.

"At least Slade is dead," Cyborg said.

How should Dick feel? Happy that Slade was dead? Was that what Vic was insinuating? Dick could never feel happy about this.

"Does it matter?" Dick asked, his voice tightening with emotion. "Terra is dead. I'd rather they both be alive. This wasn't how it was supposed to end."

"Then how did you want it to end?"

"What kind of a question is that?" Dick demanded. "I don't want anyone to die."

"Not even Slade?"

Dick stood up. His wounds needed tending to, and he had abandoned his eye mask a long time ago. There were burns all over his body from the lava Terra had opened up in the middle of Jump City.

"No one deserves to die," he said through gritted teeth.

"Come on, man, even after everything he did to you?"

Dick took a swing at Cyborg. Starfire squeaked in surprise as Dick threw his fist again. Cyborg caught his wrist.

"Good thing I rolled with that punch, or else you would have broken your hand," Cyborg said quietly. "You're not the only one hurting, Dick."

Cyborg let go of him. Dick backed away, suddenly ashamed that he tried to hit one of his best friends.

"You don't think I've thought the same, Vic? You can't possibly understand my guilt. If I hadn't let Slade go, then Terra wouldn't have died." Dick shook. Everything sounded worse when he said it out loud. "Terra wouldn't have betrayed us."

Only Starfire had bothered to stick around as Cyborg and Dick began yelling at one another. Raven had disappeared to her room a long time ago. Beast Boy wouldn't talk to anyone and was wandering around outside as a dog. Why would Raven listen?

There were funeral arrangements to be made. Terra didn't have any relatives that the Titans knew of. Maybe Dick should break into Slade's old haunt and see if Slade had any of that information. If, somehow, Terra had relatives, then they should know that she died a hero.

It wasn't often he cried in front of the Titans. Many times in private, when he had heart-to-hearts with individual Titans, but he had not broken down completely in front of them since he reunited with Bruce. But this time Dick cried.

_It's over. She killed him. _

Terra should have never been the one to kill Slade. She shouldn't have had that responsibility. Vic didn't say anything. He knew that Dick was right, but that didn't excuse Dick's behavior.

This, somehow, was so much worse. Captivity he could recover from. Death was inescapable. This was a different kind of helplessness, one that he hadn't felt since his parents had died. The knowledge that he could do nothing to bring her back, and that he couldn't reverse his mistakes, sickened him more than anything else. That he could have done so much more while he was still alive. He could have helped her more.

"Dick," Starfire said, wrapping his arms around him, "don't cry, Dick."

There was so much that needed to be done, and Dick didn't care about anything else except her death. Starfire hugged him. She didn't cry, though she shook just as much as he did. Tears flowed freely from Dick's eyes as he hugged her back.

Terra had the strength to kill Slade. She gave up her life for that and pulled him into the lava pit. She had done the very thing that Dick was afraid to do: kill Slade. And Dick could not help but feel as though he should have been the one to do it. To end this cycle of hate and destruction before it spiraled out of control. But he had been a coward, and his sentimentality nearly killed them all.

"It's not your fault, Dick," Vic said. "We are all at fault."

After the funeral Dick needed to go back home. To take a break from the superhero business for a long while. He wasn't certain that he could deal with this anymore.

Dick walked towards the window overlooking Jump City Bay. The sun was now setting, but he couldn't appreciate its beauty. He placed his hand on the window and glimpsed his reflection.

"I don't care what people say," Dick said, "Terra was a Titan, and no one can say otherwise. We gave up on her. How can we possibly call ourselves heroes when we couldn't even save a little girl?"

It didn't matter if so many things had been out of his control, or that the Titans won in the end, because Dick's feelings weren't any different. Maybe he should call Bruce or Alfred and talk about his feelings. But would that really help anyone?

Dick turned around and walked back to his room. There were things that needed to get done, and there would be time for mourning later. He had to be strong for his team, and he had to keep going. If he didn't, then Terra's sacrifice would have for nothing.

* * *

**A/N: This oneshot was written during a very strange time. I had this lined up to write when I received the news that an old friend, who had been struggling with cancer, didn't have much time to live. I hadn't talked to her in years, and I was better friends with her sister and brother, but it really bummed me out. I don't think she liked Teen Titans, but the news really struck me and influenced how I wrote this oneshot. I was very sad last Saturday, and I wish all the best for her family. **


End file.
